


Please Keep Love Hole

by wolffffflock (Hun__Sher)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Glory Hole, Jock Stiles, M/M, Manpain, Nerd Derek Hale, Student Stiles, Student!Stiles, Teacher Derek, Teacher-Student Relationship, bottom!Derek, jock!Stiles, nerd!derek, teacher!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1386157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hun__Sher/pseuds/wolffffflock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What can one lonely nerdy teacher do when he just loves sucking cock? The lone bathroom stall in a gay bar seems like the perfect place for him.</p><p>What can one hyper college student with a sports scholarship do when his friends are jerks? The lone bathroom stall in a gay bar seems like the perfect place for him, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So the idea came in a totally chliche way; I was on the way of falling asleep when I remembered that I saw a blog about gloryhole etiquette and I decided to write it.
> 
> I have never said I know what I'm doing and this is another great example of that. It's gonna be slow build (and slow upload, sorry, I am really bad with WIPs. I hope I won't get bored halfway through).
> 
> I have thrown almost all my favourite AUs together here. Okay, not all. Jesus, that would look weird! Whatever, I might do it once in the future lol
> 
> UNBETA'ED

Derek knew that this wasn’t good; that he shouldn’t be doing this. His mother always taught him to respect others and most of all, to respect himself. “People won’t accept you if you don’t esteem yourself.”

The thing is, that’s exactly what was happening. After another terrible date that his family has insisted on (again…), Derek didn’t have the highest opinion of himself. He blamed himself for falling for Kate’s deceiving words, for Patrick’s expensive presents and Jennifer’s body. He should have learnt it by now: his dark and cynical view of life, his dry and sarcastic sense of humor (when it came out, that is) was not for everybody. His body, on the other hand, obviously was.

And this is exactly why he always came back to this, even if he had wanted to do what his family expected of him, a partner and a relationship. But people didn’t appreciate his personality, so he needed other ways to feel wanted, to see people enjoy his company. Even if it was only his mouth. And he wasn’t using it for talking.

No, he went to his favorite gay bar a few towns over from Beacon Hills (you can’t be too careful). He loved this place because people knew him here. They knew that he came here every Thursday and that he took the leftmost bathroom stall for two hours. But they didn’t know more than that. They didn’t know his story, and they didn’t pity him for that. Not like people did in Beacon Hills. Here he could leave that all behind and concentrate on giving pleasure; since he himself couldn’t get any, at least, this way, others could.

The oer reason he liked this bar was that this was a place he surely wouldn’t meet any coworkers from the school. Mike, he knows, prefers The Jungle in Beacon Hills, so Derek couldn’t go there. He sure as hell would lose his job if the kids’ parents figure out that he sucks cock as a hobby on every Thursday.

He had contemplated asking money for it but that would make him feel used. He didn’t do it for the money, he did it because he loved it and it helped to escape reality.

He’d been 17 when he first realized what a liberating feeling it was to have a hard, warm cock in your mouth. It’d been the first time he was with a man; before that it was only girls. But when he turned 16, Kate Argent, former star of Beacon Hills High, had almost destroyed him. She was funny, witty, charming. No wonder Derek fell for her. He was 4 years younger than she was, totally against the law and his family’s knowing. Because he couldn’t tell them; no, Derek had known that his mother would strongly disagree, would argue about it. The worst of it all was that, looking back now, she was right.

Kate had played him, you could say it was almost an art form for her: promises, secrets, and satisfying his teenaged hormones. But deep down Derek had known that this wasn’t right, that he shouldn’t give his heart, too, not just his body, to this woman.

The moment of realization had come when he was tied to a bed, naked, gagged and shivering in the cold as sweat cooled on his slap-reddened skin. Kate had been only wearing her blood red (how fitting…) lingerie and she had a dagger in her hand, a maniac grin on her face. Derek’d tried to break free, he pulled on the ropes but his teenage body hadn’t been strong enough yet, he was stuck, dread filling him as Kate approached him. The worst thing was that she was talking, saying filthy things that made Derek’s stomach turn, while she had put the blade to his chest and slowly dragged it towards his belly button. In that moment, all Derek could feel was pain, humiliation and hate. He hated himself for believing that the most popular girl to ever attend BHH would be interested in him; gangly, nerdy freshman Derek Hale with his hipster glasses and braces.

She hadn’t cut deep, only to draw blood all along the lines, but by the time she sat up and whistled, admiring her work, his whole chest, arms and thighs were streaked with long cuts. When she’d felt satisfied with her work, having had stared at him for a good three minutes, she put her clothes back on, washed her hands and the dagger and kissed Derek on the forehead. Then she left.

It was in the morning, two days later, that they found him; the police had tracked him down using the GPS of his mobile. His mother had cried when she saw the cuts; his uncle was raging, thirsting for Kate’s blood. He had spent all his time helping the police but they had never found her.

Having had a history with women and being overpowered by them like he had, there’s no wonder that he grew up avoiding situations where he didn’t have the upper hand.

This is why he chose to do this anonymously, through a hole. It spared him from the tortuous process of hitting on someone (after being through that trauma at 16, he had completely closed himself off, had asked his mom to hire tutors so he didn’t have to go to school where people would either mock him, or pity him). And with a wall between him and the other person, there was no way someone could grab him and make him do something he didn’t want. He was the one with the power in his hands, and he liked it. Or with the power in his mouth, but that’s not the point. The point is, over the years, he sucked a lot of dicks, got better and better; but that was all he did. Of course, there had been phone numbers on a slip of paper slid into his stall but he had never called any of them.

He was 26, ten years after what had happened with Kate and he was proud of the life he had. He was teaching literature in the closest university to his home town and he was good at it. The first few years were horrible, because his home schooling and trauma definitely had a huge effect on his social skills (that hadn’t been the best even before) but with practice, he got where he was now. His students liked him, his snarky, nerdy attitude and they seemed to be interested in the school work, too. Of course, it was all too good to be true.

_**TBC** _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'ed, so I'm sorry for the mistakes. Do tell me if you find any, please.

How many times have you heard people saying to their kids to be different, to be special? Well Stiles himself heard it quite a lot. Not from his parents, no; his mom always told him that he WAS special, so he had never felt the need to focus on this when growing up.

Only in college did he realize how different he was. Don't get him wrong, he'd seen it in high school already when his ADHD and special (this word again) sense of humor drove most of the people away from him. He wasn't a loner, though, because soon enough he'd found Scott, a goofy boy with asthma and a huge heart. They had become inseparable, spending almost every waking moment together. It had been only just the two of them, but it meant that they weren’t alone. Stiles felt like he belonged.

Since they were teenage boys and there was nothing better than being part of a group, which they couldn’t get friends-wise, they joined some sports club. Scott played lacrosse, and over the years he got his asthma under control and that meant that there were a few games where he could play first line.

Stiles himself wasn’t a fan of getting knocked over all the time, but liked to enjoy being alone, so it seemed obvious that he chose cross country. And he got better and better, became the school’s #1 athlete and this inevitably lead to a sports scholarship.

When graduation came, and he wouldn’t tell this to Scott, he was really freaked out and had several small panic attacks because he knew that it could very well mean the end of his friendship with Scott. He would need to go to college alone, make friends or spend his years either on the field running, or in his room playing video games, browsing Wikipedia articles or reading sci-fi novels.

It came as a sweet surprise, then, when Scott told him that he had found a vet program at the same college as Stiles chose for his studies. Because yes, he went there to study, his sports scholarship was the added bonus.

* * *

When the first day of school came, they were ready. They moved in their dorm room the night before, Stiles’ dad and Scott’s mom helping them, loading the fridge full with Tupperware boxes, and telling them to try and stay alive before their next weekend home.

The orientation day was hectic, and Stiles fell in love right away. Compared to Beacon Hills, this place was chaotic and alive. In the following months Stiles became the star of the track and field team as a long-distance runner, scoring most wins of the trimester. Some people called him a jock, although in his mind, he was nothing like them, all skinny and lean. But the title stayed and he needed to act accordingly. It was helped by the fact that he had so many different trainings that he barely had time to study, so his grades were dropping  a little. He was still way above the minimum he needed to get to keep his scholarship, but it hurt a little. He always prided himself in having managed doing sports and getting good grades. But here in college people didn’t seem to mind it, they thought Stiles was studying way too much, he shouldn’t spend so much time reading, because it totally wasn’t worth it. So yeah, once again, he was different.

With being on the team came new friends, if you can call them that, and Stiles found himself in a gang of jocks. Scott, who joined the lacrosse team here, too, was a part of that, of course, which made things a lot easier. Because pretending to be a jock was a hard job; talking about nothing but sport -- and he couldn’t even talk about long-distance running, think about it, what can you say, “do you remember Kenenisa Bekele’s amazing footwork”? No, you can’t, so he needed to start paying attention to other sports, like baseball, rugby, basketball. It was a lot of work, playing this role but he knew that he needed to do it to keep alive. College was brutal, some said, and he knew it was true when he saw poor Greenberg, mathlete of the year, eating alone next to the dumpsters.

So he played along, and got some jock friends. Or buddies, because his only friend was Scott. Scott, who became a ladies’ man himself, using his charm to flirt with everyone. But his eyes were set on one girl only, art major Kira Yukimura, who won Scott’s heart with refusing his advances three times. Scott loved a good challenge and Kira definitely was one. Stiles adored them both.

But back to the jocks, he inevitably became a member of Jackson Whittemore’s entourage. Star swimmer and giant jackass Jackson Whittemore who was your typical jock. Stiles kind of felt it his mission to be there with him and keep him away from bullying other kids. Thank God for Jackson’s other friend, Danny Mahealani, light-weight wrestler, who agreed with him on this and together they managed to keep other students’ lives bullying-free. “It was one thing to be the king of the college but you don’t need to be a jerk about it” was Stiles’ motto.

After a few weeks, girls and boys started to pay attention to him. He was flattered, really, but deep down he knew he was waiting for something… a little more. Casual was okay, but he didn’t want to date any of them. This, of course, added another layer to his jock persona. He became a trophy people wanted to get, so they could brag that they had slept with Stiles. He always chose carefully, though; never when the other person or himself were too drunk, never someone who was in a relationship, and never freshman. Because of these precautions, he could stay friends with all of his one night stands and this was something Jackson couldn’t tell himself. It was no surprise to anyone when people started to hit on him instead of Jackson and he became the “hottest stud” of the college. Nobody needed to know, though, that he only made out with most of them, and had only slept with Jackie and Dave.

It was one of those frat parties with red solo cups and endless amount of beer where they first discussed their sex lives. Man, was it awkward... They were tipsy, steadily heading towards drunk, when Danny suddenly burst out laughing at one of Stiles’ dirty jokes, leant on his shoulders and whispered in his ear.

“I was in a threesome last night. It was my first.”

After that they talked about their experiences (Stiles ‘forgot’ to tell them that less than half of the stories about him are true) and fantasies, which slowly turned into rather obscene the more beer they had. Of course, Jackson was the one to put the icing on the cake with his proposal.

“Stilinski, ya know what a good head’s like, yeah?”

“Fuck yeah, I do,” Stiles said (okay, he shouted; he was drunk, so sue him).

“Why you askin’, Jack, you don’t? D’ya want my help?” Danny grinned at Jackson with half-closed eyes, dimples and a tongue peeping out of his mouth to wet his lips.

“Geez, Danny, no. But have you heard about ‘ _Head-onist_ ’?”

“Jackson, get the fuck out, we’re way too drunk to discuss philosophy here, man,” Stiles groaned as he shoved Jackson in the shoulder.

“No, you meathead, it’s a bar like 20 miles away. A gay bar,” Whittemore said with a smirk on his lips. At least that’s what it looked like to Stiles; with Jackson you can never know, his default expression was like the one the Cheshire Cat had.

“OH!” came from Danny who seemed to have an epiphany started giggling/snorting until he had tears in his eyes.

“What is it? Spill the bean, Whittemore!” came Scott’s impatient reply.

“It’s a gay bar, McCall.”

“I AM GOING TO CHOKE YOU TO DEATH,” yelled Stiles as he grabbed Jackson by the collar and started shaking him.

“Jesus fuck, Stilinski, calm your fucking tits down!” He yelled back and tried to peel Stiles off of himself. Danny tried to help him, making sawing motions with his hands where Stiles had Jackson’s collar in a dead lock.

“You are so fucking immature, the both of you, geez,” Scott murmured as he dragged Stiles back into a sitting position. “So you were saying…?” he prompted and turned puppy eyes on Jackson.

“There is this rumor that there’s a glory hole and every Thursday there’s this guy who gives the best head in the state,” Danny mumbled as he turned red like a fire truck.

All of them paused and stared at Danny, which made him even more uncomfortable as he started fiddling with his phone and stared at his hands.

And then they burst out laughing.

“OH MY GOD, DANNY,” started Stiles, but Jackson’s yell drowned out his.

“WHEN DID YOU GO?! YOU TOLD ME YOU WOULD TELL ME.”

“He WHAT?! YOU knew HE WANTED TO GO?!” Scott was wheezing he was laughing so hard, blurting out the words between noisy inhalations.

“DANNY BOOOOOOOOY GOT SOME GREAT HEAD! LOOK HOW HARD HE IS BLUSHING.” Stiles was already on his feet at this point, standing in front of Danny and shouting at him at the top of his lungs. “FUCK, HOW hard. HAHA, DANNY I BET YOU WERE HARD BACK THEN, TOO.” And he was just cackling, yelling and pointing fingers at Danny.

“SIT THE FUCK DOWN, STILES!” cried Danny and glared at Stiles, which effectively made his laugh immediately die out. Stiles folded himself back on the couch between Danny and Scott, Jackson staring dagger at him from the other side of Danny.

“It was just this one time, after Ethan broke up with me, okay? I was drunk and I went to the bathroom and he was in there, giving someone a blowjob. And the other guy was moaning and loud and it was hot, okay? So when he left the stall, I went in. He didn’t say anything, just tapped the hole with his finger and I just did it.” Danny was speaking fast and in a hushed voiced, so they all huddled closer to him.

“Was he any good?” Jackson asked, of course.

Danny’s stupid grin was answer enough.

“Man, I wish there were guys –or girls– like that on this campus. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that people are so enthusiastic about giving head at parties but… I don’t know. They’re okay, but it’s just not… the right way…?” Stiles lamented.

“Sweet Lord, when did you turn into such a huge sap, Stilinski? Don’t drink beer because it makes you stupid.”

“Shut up, Jack-ass,” came Scott’s chivalrous retort. He, of course, knew about Stiles’ real track record and understood his problems. Well, not really, since all the girls he had been with were quite good at giving head and Kira… let’s just say she was a quick study and an enthusiastic student.

“Maybe you should try it,” Danny proposed, deep understanding and an almost unworldly look on his face.

“Haha, yeah, as if…” Jackson snorted. “He has a different person for every day of the week, why would he choose a blowjob over some hot sex?” Stiles had to hide his smile; Whittemore sounded quite offended at that. He didn’t take it that well that his #1 hot guy status had changed.

“He just said that he wants something else,” Danny, the voice of reason countered. Stiles kind of wanted to kiss him for that, he always knew what was happening. And, well, Stiles was kind of drunk.

“Pft, bullshit,” Jackson yelled. “There’s no such thing. A head is a head. Period.”

“If you say that, maybe it’s you who should go,” Scott chimed in.

“Ooooooh, burn!” Stiles laughed as he patted Scott’s back. Man, he loved his bro.

“This isn’t about me, here,” Jackson said, ears going red. “Fifty bucks says he won’t do it.”

That made Stiles’ hand on Scott back still and he just sat there in disbelief. These were his friends. Betting on his sex life. When did his life turn into this?

“Sixty says that he goes and he’ll like it,” Danny smirked at Jackson. It was kind of scary, to be honest, way too confident.

“Well, of course he’ll like it, it’s a head. The question is: will his whole life change because of it?” Scott’s smile was so huge, it almost split his face in two. Danny winked at Stiles, then. He _winked_.

“Don’t be stupid, McCall, that’s impossible,” Jackson was looking at the two of them with disdain.

Stiles was just sitting there, thinking about it. To be honest, it’s been a while since he last had sex and it wasn’t really good. No matter how hard he tried to guide Dave through it, he just couldn’t do it the way Stiles liked; so Stiles flipped him on his stomach and fucked him instead. The other thing was, that he had to agree with Jackson; there’s no such thing as a life altering blowjob. It’s ridiculous. It’s just some mouth-to-dick action, that can’t be so different. Okay, so he was really interested and he wanted to try it. It would also mean that Jackson would lose the bet, and that wouldn’t hurt, either.

“So what do you say, Stiles?” Scott asked, looking at him, curious and a little too self-assured.

“I can totally go there with you, you know,” Danny offered and Stiles had to laugh at that, because really, why was he even surprised. He grinned at him and bumped their shoulders.

“I think we really have to see that together,” Stiles smiled at them and leant back on the couch, putting his arms on the backrest. “I hope you don’t have any plans for Thursday,” he said, all serious, and winked at Jackson, who groaned, while Scott and Danny shared a cheeky grin.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek arrives at the bar at his usual time and as always, it’s not so busy, yet. He prefers having a drink while the place is not packed; while he’s sipping on his whisky, he talks to the bartender, Buchannon. He asks him about his work – he doesn’t know that Derek a teacher, he only knows that he works in the next town.

As clockwork, he complains a little about deadlines and people’s inability to do what they are told – because it’s true, students have the most ridiculous excuses when it comes to handing in papers. His all-time favorite is Carla Weston’s story; her paper on Wordsworth was only a day late but her excuse was the best Derek has heard so far. “ _[Did you mean Eastern Standard or Hawaii Standard Time? I’m 1/64th Polynesian, plus I had ham and pineapple pizza last night](http://jasonfwright.com/column/the-top-ten-excuses-for-missing-a-deadline.html)_.”

He talks half an hour, maybe an hour with Buchannon, or listens to him, more like, telling him stories about drunken college kids’ shenanigans. Derek knows them all too well not to laugh. By the time he finishes his third glass, the place is almost crowded. The music is playing louder, and some people have started swaying on the dance floor. He turns around to face the dance floor and starts observing the scene.

He still has an hour until his usual starting time, and everyone knows it. At first, he put a little note on the bathroom door, letting people know when he’ll be there but after years of doing it, there’s no need for that.

The crowd is just the same as always, last party night before some of the students go home, leaving the city half dead. He can spot cocky jock-types, a few nervous nerds and a big group of girls, even though it’s a bar for men, mostly. He understands them, all too well. Every time he goes to a regular bar –and that happens only when his colleague and best friend, Erica, drags him out to ‘socialize, not just to have sex’–, women (over-confident, fake, older, mostly) hit on him. Sometimes he has a nice chat with them, though, but it is a rare occurrence. Bars aren’t for that, anyway.

He spots a guy standing in the middle of the crowd, holding a beer, swaying with the rhythm, intently staring at him. When he notices that Derek saw him, he cocks his head to the right and holds his drink in greeting. Derek, with the grace of a panther, slides off the stool, thanks Buchannon for the drinks, and starts striding toward the guy. Getting closer he can see him better; he has shoulder-length curly brown hair and brown eyes. He’s a little shorter than Derek, but equally built. By the time Derek stops in front of him, he has put the bottle down and has his hand in his pockets, still confident and very interested.

They don’t talk; Derek just sweeps a glance over his body: takes in his tight shirt, leather pants and boots, then slowly steps closer to wrap his arm around the guy’s back and pull him closer. The dance like this for a minute, his arm around the other’s waist, the man’s hands on his hip, slowly slipping to his ass. As the music changes, their rhythm turns into slower, longer movements of their hips. Their groins are touching, slowly grinding against the other’s zipper while the guy starts dragging his mouth and tongue over Derek’s neck, following the path of one pumping vein.

Minutes pass and Derek is getting impatient. He grabs the guy’s hair in a fist, and drags his head away from his neck. He’s moaning and his mouth is open, red, his eyes a little unfocused. Without a word, he takes his hand and leads him to the bathroom.

This is how he always does it; entering with someone else because he thinks this way nobody will suspect him. He shoves the guy into one of the stalls, listening to the sound of that one guy at the sink quickly leaving, and slams the door behind himself.

“Desperate, are we?” asks the guy, cocky grin playing on his lips.

“Shut up,” he retorts and starts pulling on the other man’s belt and pants. Within minutes he has him naked, from the waist down. He’s already almost fully hard, so Derek takes him in his hand. The guy hisses at the sudden contact and braces himself on the wall, gripping the top of it with both hands.  Derek likes it, that he doesn’t want to control him, doesn’t feel the need to touch Derek, to make it seem like it’s more than a quick handjob in a dirty bathroom. It gives him a heady feeling of power.

He slowly closes his fingers around the guy’s dick, spitting on it while he does so, and judging by the moan that comes from the guy, it’s how he likes it. He’s gripping the wood of the stall hard, knuckles going white as Derek starts to stroke him faster, grabbing him firmer. He’s moaning, hips canting forward with each upward twist of Derek’s hand.

The guy’s babbling nonsense after a few minutes, his forehead shining with sweat, his face flushed pink. Derek doesn’t want to say anything, so he covers the man’s mouth with hi free hand, elbow resting against the wall, caging the guy. He lets out a shaky moan as he tries to get air through his nose but it’s not enough so he’s starting to pant heavily.

With a whispered “do not talk or remove your hands” in the man’s ear, Derek lets go of his mouth and puts his other hand, too, around the guy’s cock. He grabs him tighter and starts to move his hands, creating one strong grip. The guy is biting his lip to keep quiet, and uses the wall against his back to support his weight as he starts fucking into Derek’s hand.

“Do not shoot your load, let go if it slowly. We don’t want to ruin my clothes,” he leans close to the guy’s ear, whispering to him between little nibbles.

And then he suddenly bits on his earlobe, hard, and the guy is groaning and snorting and makes all kinds of embarrassing noises as he comes, but does as he was told, come slowly dripping from his cock. Derek’s grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go of him; strokes him through his orgasm.

When he takes his hands away to wipe it clean with wet wipes he keeps in his jacket, the guy is chuckling. Derek looks at his face and feels proud of himself: the guy’s expression is soft, his eyes are glistening and his mouth is open, trying to catch his breath. He feels Derek’s eyes on him so he looks at him, smiling widely when their eyes meet.

He starts reaching towards Derek’s pants, but he stops him. At first he looks surprised but then Derek whispers in his ear.

“There’s no need for that anymore.”

The guy’s eyebrows climb under his hairline but with nothing more to do, he starts righting his clothes. When he’s ready, he puts a hand on Derek’s hip, who is busy cleaning his hands. There’s no point in telling him that he doesn’t need him to reciprocate because he didn’t even get fully hard. The guy looks Derek in the eye and he seems honest when he says, “Thank you. It was amazing,” before leaving the stall and the bathroom.

Derek lets himself feel contented for a moment, knowing that he did something right, that this guy will have good memories of him. After all, this is why he does this; there are too many people whom he let down in his life, but he knows he’s good at sex so he can impress a few others this way. Of course it’s not the same, he knows that, but he needs this; he needs to feel like he’s doing something right.

When he’s cleaned his hands, he leaves the stall, washes his hand at the sink while he stares at his reflection. What he sees is an empty shell and vacant eyes. He knows that he’s lost his “spark” way too soon, and he’s turned bitter but he’s hopeful, against all things, that one day something will happen to change that. He thought working at the college would be that thing that gave him purpose but it just wasn’t. So here he is, spending his Thursday night in a bathroom, trying to fill the void with small praises and compliments.

After washing his hands, he drinks from the tap. He knows he’ll need spit to get through this night. When he goes back to _his_ stall, he sits down on the toilet and barely has time to take his phone out when someone enters the room. The door of the stall next to _his_ opens, and he can hear a soft “hi” being mumbled.

He doesn’t say a single word, just reaches out and curls his finger in through the whole, aiming for an inviting gesture. Within seconds a zipper is being pulled down and he can hear the other man shuffling closer to the hole. When he takes his hand away from it, the guy pushes his dick through it.

It’s a pretty nice dick, dark, a little hairy at the base as he can see, and cut. Personally, Derek prefers uncut dicks because it makes it so much easier for him, having something extra to tease with. The guy is average, but has a nice shape. Derek inhales and exhales slowly, blowing the air on the cock. It twitches and starts to fill faster.

With confident moves Derek takes it in hand and starts pumping. He does it fast, using his hand and his tongue. When the man is red and hard, shiny with Derek’s saliva, his takes it in his mouth and sets a relentless tempo. After a few moments the guy is already panting harsh, his hips snapping against the wall of the stall as he tries to get as much of his cock in Derek’s mouth as he can. With a few more hard tugs and swirls of his tongue the guy is on the edge.

“I’m—I’m gonna…” he stumbles over his words but Derek is already jerking him through his orgasm. When he milked everything out of him, he lets go of his dick. The guy pulls away, and Derek hears him fumbling with his clothes. A soft “thanks” is directed towards him as the man leaves the bathroom.

He goes through the motions again; cleaning his hand, cleaning the floor, going to the tap and drinking.

In quick succession two other men come (pun intended), and Derek feels better than when he came in. He is exhausted, sure, and his jaw aches; he also got jizz in his beard, but all of the guys thanked him and told him how awesome he was. One of them promised to come back next week.

He’s almost finished his ‘after’ ritual when he hears noises from the other side of the bathroom door. Shouting and yelling, loud laughing. College kids, he knows.

Before he could get caught, he goes back to his stall and waits. He’s not sure if they want to take a leak or one of them (and he really hopes it won’t be more than one at the same time, he hates it, it’s so much more difficult to get them off like that) will come to the stall next to him.

A moment later, though, the door of the bathroom bangs open, and someone stumbles in.

“Shit, guys, I told you I would do it, leave me the fuck alone now!” comes an angry voice and the following laughter from probably his friends.

He closes the door, no so vehemently this time, and then there’s silence. Derek knows what’s going on; he’s listened to this happening for a while now. He has a newbie, who doesn’t know what to do. They guy slowly figures it out, though, and tentatively opens the right door, entering the stall that is connected with Derek’s.

“Hi…?” He stutters; if he’s saying or asking it is beyond Derek. Derek only huffs in response.

“So I dunno wha’ I have to do here, dude, I’ve never done this before and my friends weren’t exactly helpful. And I’m kinda drunk now so I’m not sure I should be doing what my brain tells me to do because it says I should introduce myself and that’s just stupid. I mean the whole point of this is staying anonymous and—“ he rambles when Derek interrupts him.

“Keep your mouth shut, don’t talk, and don’t ask questions just put your dick in the whole so I can suck it.” Well, okay, this wasn’t the most glorious (ha-ha) foreplay ever but he really doesn’t have time for some college kid who wants to talk. He should go to church and talk to the priest in the confessional.

“O-okay. Yeah…” The guy is still not moving, though, so Derek huffs impatiently and starts banging the wall separating them.

“Oh my God, okay, okay, I got it. Jesus!” And then he’s finally moving, chucking his pants and belt. His sneakers are squeaking on the floor as he tries to move closer to the hole with his pants around his ankles.

When he finally gets close enough to put his cock through the hole, Derek has to blink for a moment, because he is impressed. The boy (because he can’t be more than 18-20, he sounds young and well, his balls aren’t wrinkly) is already hard, his above average dick straight as a rod. The tip of the head is red and glistening with a little bit of precome, and, Derek takes a deep breath, he is uncut. He hums in appreciation as he runs his finger over the upside. The guy’s breath hitches and he thrust forward.

Derek smiles at that; clearly the guy is not drunk enough to not get it up, and he’s apparently very eager. Derek will show him that he’s in good hands now. And, well, mouth, later.

He slowly starts raking his nails over the shaft, from base to top, just to tease. The resulting “nngh” from the other side of the wall is answer enough. When he reaches the tip, he starts pulling the foreskin back, revealing the gorgeous head of the guy’s dick. He always loved uncut guys because it’s so mesmerizing watching the foreskin move up and down, hiding and revealing the head. After a few strokes he dips his finger under the skin and starts massaging the head, carefully running his nail over the slit.

“J-Jeeeesussss!” The boy hisses as two hands slam on the wall; he’s probably trying to stay still, holding himself upright.

Derek lets go of the foreskin, pulls it back and licks at the head. It tastes salty but it’s not so bad; the other guy before this one tasted a lot worse. He starts slowly licking down the shaft, then, using small kitten licks to tease the boy. When the whole shaft is wet with spit, he goes back to the head and takes it in his mouth. It’s hard and soft at the same time, and it sits on his tongue perfectly. He runs his tongue on the underside of the head while he sucks at it at the same time, and the boy keens.

This gives Derek more courage, and he takes as much as he can in his mouth. The guy hasn’t said anything when he used his nails so he tries a little teeth, when he lets his dick slide out of his mouth, he scrapes the head with his front teeth a little. The guy chokes on air and exhales shakily.

Derek starts bobbing his head and uses his hands to cover what he can’t fit in his mouth. He uses a little pressure on every upstroke and twists his hand when he goes back to the base. He can taste the precome that’s leaking from the slit and he swallows it, actually not feeling disgusted. The guy’s moans turn into little gasped ‘ah’s as he is getting closer, so Derek lets his dick slip out of his mouth. He keeps up with his hands, though, letting the guy fuck the tight grip. He slides his fingers back down the shaft, then, and takes the tip in his mouth. He barely closes his mouth around it, just teases. The boy groans and he sounds frustrated and desperate at the same time, so Derek closes his mouth around him and starts using his teeth again. He moves from the tip to the bottom of the glans and on every upstroke, he rakes his teeth over it; on the downstroke he sucks hard.

It takes not more than two minutes and the guy is hitting the wall with his fists.

“Move, I can’t—“

And then he’s coming, thick ropes of come landing in Derek’s palm. He strokes the guy through it, teasing the underside of the glans a little, and then the boy is groaning and stumbling backwards. Derek can hear his head hitting the other wall, his shoes sliding forward as he slumps down against the wall. His feet slide through under the divider and into Derek’s stall.

“Holy crap,” the boy says and he’s panting. “How can people do that? My knees gave out!” He’s chuckling to himself, coming down from the adrenaline high.

A few moments pass and then he’s scrambling to get to his feet. When he’s done, Derek hears him getting dressed and then he turns to leave.

Derek is anxious for a moment because he can’t leave without saying anything, they always do!

But then the guy sticks his thumb throw the hole and says “You’re a fucking menace, dude. Thanks for the awesome orgasm”. And then he leaves.

Derek sits there, staring where the thumb was just a moment before, and he can’t help but smile. Well this definitely was something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNBETA'ED
> 
> I have no idea why, but I named the bartender Buchannon. I blame David Hasselhoff and Baywatch for that lol
> 
> There's a link for the lame excuse for missing a deadline, because Google is the best.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as Stiles exits the bathroom, his friends are shoving at each other to get to him.

“SO?!” Jackson yells.

“How was it?” comes from Scott.

Danny is simply laughing at him. Apparently, he was the only one who took in Stiles’ messy hair, red cheeks and dopey smile.

“Yeah, he’s good,” is all he says, though. Danny’s smile falls and he’s looking at Stiles with something… weird in his eyes. Okay, so Stiles is a little too tipsy, still, and his brain was just sucked out through his dick, don’t expect anything eloquent here.

“No, don’t get me wrong, the dude knows how to do it. I mean, his teeth—“ he starts but then Jackson’s choked yell and Scott’s saucer-wide eyes stop him.

“What?” He looks at his friends in confusion.

“You like teeth?!” Jackson blurts out and then starts laughing. “I get it now, why you think the heads that you were getting weren’t good. You like it rough – the pain.” He sounds totally neutral, not even judging, which, coming from Jackson, should be alarming.

“I mean… like… it’s not that…” Stiles starts babbling and this is when Danny finally starts laughing.

“It’s totally fine, Stiles,” he claps his shoulder. “Whatever floats your boat.” And then he starts heading towards the door. Apparently it is their cue, because Scott follows him, right after he smiled at Stiles and punched his shoulder lightly. Jackson goes with them without a word, head shaking in disbelief.

Stiles just stands there for a moment, contemplating what happened. So yes, apparently the teeth thing did it for him. None of his sex partners have tried it before, but now Stiles can definitely say that he likes it a little rougher. Thinking about it, when he is having “Stiles time”, he usually opts for hard tugs and pulls. Whatever it is that the guy did, he sure gave Stiles some nice images for later moments of his alone time. Because he’s not planning on going out with anyone any time soon. Not that he has ever been on a real date. With Jackie, it was always movie marathons and sex in her room; Dave preferred hanging out with their friends and bolting when they were horny. And if someone does come in the upcoming months, oh well, now he knows what to ask for.

* * *

Weeks pass without Stiles thinking about that one night in _Head-onist_. He has his final papers to work on and he has a job now. As cliché as it is, he’s working at a Starbucks, every weekend. With trainings and school, he’s already way too overloaded, but he needs the money, even if it isn’t too much. From a few days’ experience, though, he knows, that the more he smiles, the friendlier he is, the more tips he gets. So even if it sucks (big time) waking up at 6.30 on a Saturday morning, he goes to the coffee shop and plasters a huge smile on his face. Flirting is not strictly written in their work description but it’s not like it hurts, you know? This close to the campus there are a lot of hot people needing a caffeine fix before starting working on their papers or studying for their exams.

So he does it. A lot. Lingering looks, small brushes of fingertips, playing coy, pretending being interested. And it works! There are more and more people who wait for him, and _him_ alone, to take their orders. People don’t say he’s good at what he does without a reason: he knows all his regulars’ names and orders. He gets a few phone numbers in return but he just doesn’t feel like the spark, as boring and sappy it sounds.

Today is not any different than the rest of his workdays: he’s taking orders after orders, puts new baked goodies on display, tries not pouring scorching hot coffee on everyone, including himself.

He’s practically running with a tray full of banana muffins and cappuccinos to the table in the corner. There’s a little girl, can’t be older than 5, and her family (mom and dad, older brother, grandparents and probably aunt and uncle with cousins) sitting there. She has a small pink tiara on her head, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” written on it, and she’s in the middle of explaining something with big gestures when he turns the corner and gets stopped by something suddenly appearing in his face.

The content of the cups, of course, land on him, burning a broad path down his chest, soaking his white uniform shirt. The muffins press against his chest, so it’s not only that he has a happy trail and chest of cappuccino, but because he’s a terribly lucky person, two muffins have to leave stains just over his nipples. Like, there’s half a muffin on his chin, and on his arm and shoulder, but the freaking things needed to land right over his NIPPLES. And because the coffee is cooling rapidly, those little bastards need to harden.

He lets out an exasperated groan under his breath when he looks down at his front. The groan turns into a moan, though, because OF FUCKING COURSE the guy, who just knocked the tray out of his hands, is hot. He looks worried as his hand hovers over Stiles’ clean arm, like he wants to steady him. His brown leather jacket and white Henley are spotless, so are his tight black jeans. When Stiles just stares at him, not responding in any way or form, he draws his hand back to run it through his soft black locks as he looks down at his feet.

When he looks back up at Stiles, fixes the thick-framed glasses on his nose, he clears his throat softly.

“Um, yeah. I—These…” Stiles starts to babble, waving the now empty tray in his arms, as if he could gesticulate with that in his hands. Not that it would really hinder him, you know…

“I’m sorry about those,” the guy says and reaches in his pocket. “How much were they?”

“Uh—“ is all Stiles can say before he almost literally runs back behind the counter, yelling a squeak-like “will check” at the guy.

As soon as he is out of sight and in the staff room, he throws the tray down and fumbles to get his shirt off.

It’s a moment later that the door opens and Isaac walks in. He is a new friend of Scott; they met in one of Scott’s classes. Stiles got this job threw Isaac, actually.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, and he sounds concerned. When Stiles manages to rip the shirt off of himself, he looks up at Isaac, to see his big puppy eyes. He definitely spends way too much time with Scott, it’s official. Nobody is allowed to use those on Stiles, ever again.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Dude just came out of nowhere, I wasn’t prepared.” He started dabbing the shirt at his abs, trying to dry his skin so he can put on another shirt. Speaking of which—

“Do you, by any chance, have a spare shirt here?” he prompts, trying to aim for hopeful. It would be quite unfortunate if he didn’t, because then he would need to work in his hoodie and that thing is huge. He’s far from coordinated on a good day, so working in that after what just happened… nope, wouldn’t work.

“Yeah, sure,” Isaac replies as he heads towards his locker and pulls out one.

As soon as Stiles has it on, he starts thinking about putting his hoodie on instead. This thing is tiny! He can feel it stretching across his stomach and back, and he swears if he’ll need to lift something, the material will rip off his biceps.

“The family is still waiting for their order, you know. And I’ve heard that the guy who knocked you over wanted to pay for it but that is not how we do it around here; it wasn’t his fault.” Isaac takes his shirt and goes to put it in a bag so it won’t start dripping on the floor. “Or yours, you know,” he continues when he’s facing Stiles again. Stiles looks up at him, feeling a little ashamed that he was so clumsy that he dropped a whole tray, not just one single cup. “You were looking down, trying to do your best to not drop the stuff,” Stiles can hear the amusement in his voice and yes, Isaac is smiling at his clumsiness, okay. “And he couldn’t see you because of the corner. So just go out there and make the little girl’s birthday better with some yummy muffins and hot chocolate. “

Isaac starts toward the door but pauses when he opens it to look back at Stiles.

“And Stiles.” Stiles’ head whips up from fixing an apron around his waist. He should have worn one before, dammit. “Try not to stare so hard at the poor guy when he orders,” he grins and then leaves Stiles to gape at the door.

It takes a few more minutes for him to collect his thoughts, mainly fighting his embarrassment and trying to psych himself up to go out and meet the little girl who’s being rather loud, now that he’s listening out for it.

With one final sweep of his palms over the apron, he leaves the staff room, heading straight to fill new cups and put muffins on a tray. When he has the family served, little girl happily munching on the sweet and slurping her hot chocolate, he looks around and tries to find the guy who he ran into.

He sees him shuffling around the counter, hands in his jacket pocket, shoulders slumped, looking at the menu halfheartedly. Stiles takes a deep breath and goes back to his post, taking orders. The man sees him taking position (you’re laughing but in the rush hour it really is like some kind of ball game where all the baristas are juggling cups and sway around each other), and launches himself at the counter. Within seconds, he’s right in front of Stiles.

“I talked to my boss, and he says that since it wasn’t your fault, we’re not taking you up on that offer of yours.” Stiles smiles at him and then waves at the general direction of the machines and baked goods. “Anything you want?” He is actually very proud of himself because his voice is totally neutral, not giving away how he would like to offer other things to the guy. I mean, seriously. He’s hot, even with his frown and unforgiving attitude.

“A date…?” The guy blurts and immediately looks like the proverbial deer in the headlight. His eyes are ridiculously wide, his mouth hanging open in a soft “o” that he forcefully snaps shut after a moment.

Stiles would laugh at how adorable that is, if he himself weren’t in the same state. He’s just staring at the guy as he starts to shuffle his foot on the floor, before he lifts his head back up to start apologizing.

“It’s not—I didn’t… I’m sorry I just—“

And at the same time, Stiles is just as eloquent.

“You wa—Did you… I mean, it’s—Have you—“

That’s when Isaac comes to their rescue.

“Hi, Derek! Here’s your usual. And yes, Stiles would love to go out with you, I wrote his number on the cup. See you next week!” He pushes the cup in the guy’s – Derek’s – numbly reaching hand and turns back to the line of people in front of him.

Stiles is gaping at him and then the gu—Derek, trying to fight the blush he can feel starting around his cheeks and spreading down his neck.

Derek just grabs the cup tighter and without another word, turns around and stomps out of the shop. The woman standing at the front of the line waiting for Stiles clears her throat and it launches Stiles into autopilot, serving people without thinking about anything but huge green eyes and hipster glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I am pouring all my fave tropes into this story. I just really hope the Sentinel AU won't butt in :D I'm saving that for another fic, a crack fic, where I use ALL OF MY favorite AUs and tropes.
> 
> I have been to a Starbucks all of one time so I really have no idea how it works. I just hope I got it right.


	5. Chapter 5

He is not freaking out. He is TOTALLY calm, Zen, definitely. The fact that he is sloshing coffee on his pants because he’s walking so fast –jogging, more like—is totally irrelevant. Shit, why is that freaking bus stop so far? And why are there only two people waiting? Crap, it means that the bus isn’t coming anytime soon; the stop would be packed if it came in a few seconds. Fuck, why didn’t he take his car this morning? Why did he listen to Erica chastising him about going green and buying a bus ticket? THIS IS EXACTLY WHEN HAVING A CAR PARKING JUST OUTSIDE A CAFÉ IS LIFE SAVING. And let’s not mention his dignity. Because that is so tamped into the shiny tiles of that freaking café that there is a hole in the floor.

What the HELL did happen back there, though? Derek can’t seem to comprehend. The guy –Stiles, yeah, thanks Isaac…– ran into him and technically covered himself in cake and coffee. And no, Derek, do NOT think about the dark hair on the boy’s –he’s called _Stiles_ , dammit—flat abs or the muffins’ yellow icing landing right on his, oh God, perky nipples! Erm, so, yeah, where was he…? Yes, okay. Stiles ran into him and stabbed the sharp edge of the tray right under his ribs. It hurt, damn! But why doesn’t he remember that, then? Why is it that huge brown eyes and artfully shaped eyebrows are all he can recall? Okay, the guy has some pretty stunning eyes, okay, he convinces himself while he checks his watch –5 more minutes until the bus comes. And those eyelashes were _really_ long, yes. And well he wanted to chew on Stiles’ lower lip as it hung open, while he gaped at Derek like a fish. The worst, though, was when he came back out wearing that freaking _tight_ shirt. All Derek could see was the mole on his right biceps peeking out from under the sleeve and obscenely calling out to him.

The shuffling of the people brings him back to reality and he realizes that he’s still clutching the cup of coffee that he bought. He gulps it down hurriedly, throws the cup in the trash and gets on the bus. His ass barely hits the seat, the bus just starts moving when he realizes that he was on such a hurry that he didn’t pay. And that Isaac said he wrote Stiles’ number on Derek’s cup. The cup he just threw away! He plasters himself on the window and stares mournfully at the trash can as the bus speeds away. Not that he wanted to use it… The humiliation this once was more than enough for a week. But after a week… He could ask for it again, obviously, when he goes back next time to pay for the coffee. Nah, he won’t do that. Ask for the number, that is. Of course he will pay for the coffee. He would have paid if he hadn’t been doing his best to flee the scene.

When he gets off the bus —while he’s rummaging in his pocket, looking for his keys— he contemplates not calling Erica, but he knows it’s impossible. Sooner or later she would find out and it would mean endless teasing so _he_ needs to tell her and let her mock him for a few hours. As he finds the keys, opens the door and throws his leather jacket on the couch, his other hand has already pulled his phone out of his back pocket and he’s dialing Erica.

“Der Bear!” she cries. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She’s awfully cheerful and not sympathetic at all. Derek doesn’t like it so he frowns at his phone.

> Erica has always been like that, though. They met when they were in grad school and then stayed in the school where they are both working now. At first, Derek hated her. They had a class together (” _Renaissance Sexualities_ ”) and she always had some infuriatingly accurate questions to their professor and Derek was always silently fuming that it wasn’t him who asked them. But then one day she sat down next to him on the bench in front of the building, while he was enjoying his home made sandwich.
> 
> “So what’s your deal?” she asked. Derek’s sandwich stopped halfway to his mouth, his tongue hanging out a little as he was about to take the first delicious bite of his tomato/lettuce/ham/cheese sandwich. With a sigh, he put the sandwich back on the serviette he had on his lap.
> 
> “Do I know you?” he asked, glaring, trying to seem intimidating but he must have looked like a hungry puppy because Erica’s only reply was a slowly rising eyebrow. He knew who she was, of course; he knew all of his class mates. Well, not _knew_ them knew them, but he would recognize them anywhere
> 
> When Erica didn’t reply, he sighed (was that her _presence_ that made him so exasperated?) and continued.
> 
> “What do you mean?” he asked gruffly, because this whole thing didn’t mean that he would be nice and friendly.
> 
> “What crawled up your ass to make you so grumpy all the damn time?” She asked and poked his face! Poked him. In. The. Cheek. “Are you even human?”
> 
> He looked at her sideways, rage swelling up in him and told her in a cool –icy—voice:
> 
> “Take your hand away from my face or I’ll rip it out.”
> 
> What he wasn’t expecting was the girl’s bubbling laughter as she shook her head and fished out a book from her bag and started reading. He just glared at her but she didn’t even flinch. After that they ate together and studied together when the final exam came.
> 
> They have been best friends ever since.
> 
> Derek is dreading the moment when his family will meet her. Erica and Laura would sure as hell gang up on him and he is just not ready for that.

“Hi Erica. Um… There’s something I’d—I was… So the thing is…” He just doesn’t know where to start, okay. Either way, it will be painful, he knows that but still, it would be good to start with something less mock-worthy. He knows it’s pointless anyway and goes to the kitchen to put on some tea.

“What happened, Derek? Boyd says that the last time he heard you stutter this bad was when we went to your high school reunion and Jessica Harting pushed her boobs under your nose while you were trying to refill your punch.” She was laughing, the evil minx, and Derek can hear Boyd’s deeper, throaty laugh, too. And people say that these two are _the_ perfect couple. That’s a huge pile of bullsh—

“Say hi to Boyd for me, will you? How is that project he’s been talking about? Did he get the fund for it?” Derek knew how to be nice, see? It’s not like—

“Quit stalling, Hale!” she tsked at him. Derek frowned and pouted a little that his lame maneuver was so obvious. “And stop pouting, God, you’re a college teacher, not an 8 year old girl.

“How do you even—?”

“I know you, Derek. Now, stop this pathetic distracting act and spill the beans. What’s going on?”

He plops down on the couch and sighs. (See? Totally a reflex when Erica is involved.) After a moment, when he finds his courage, he breathes out:

“I went to that coffee shop. You know which one.” And then he waits for Erica to respond. Erica is silent, though, and Derek has to check that the line is not dead. It isn’t. He doesn’t really know what’s happening but after a few more seconds Erica is yelling at him.

“That’s it? That’s the story? That you went to the coffee shop where you go _every fucking Saturday_?!”

Oh. Well, okay.

“No, of course not,” he confirms.

“WOULD YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED ALREADY?! Jesus Derek, didn’t you get your caffeine intake or what? You’re painfully slow today.” She’s starting to lose her temper, he realizes, so begrudgingly he starts again.

“So I was there, and the line was really long and, well… I needed to pee. I went to the bathroom when this guy with the tray ran into me. Everything on the tray ended up on him.” He takes a deep breath and whispers:

“He was cute.”

Long silence follows his words. He checks his phone again, but nope, no disconnection, they’re still talking.

And then she starts laughing. The evil bitch.

“Aaaaww, Boooooyd! Derek found a boy!” Derek feels that his ears are burning but he still can’t help but chuckle a little. It’s good to know that Erica is happy for him.

“Tell me everything! I want to know the details!” She’s so enthusiastic that it scares Derek a little.

“There’s nothing to tell, really,” he can hear her scoffing. “He was really embarrassed and—and then I asked him out…?”

When she hears this, Erica starts screaming, a high pitched, drawn-out wail.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand?! Did he say yes? When are you meeting?”

“And… umm… and I ran out of the shop.” He scratches his nape and starts fingering a whole in one of the cushion pillows.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” she shouts. “DeerreEEEEEEKK?!!!”

“But the other barista gave me his number…?” He tries to save.

“Whose number?” Erica sounds confused.

“Stiles’”, Derek waves his hand as if Erica could see it.

“What the hell is a Stiles?” He’s starting to lose her, he knows it.

“That’s the guy’s name.” He sighs (really?!).

“IS IT?!” Erica perks up again. “AND? Did you call him?”

“I—I was in a hurry getting on the bus and I threw it away.” His voice breaks at his last word, bracing himself for the onslaught from Erica.

“Noooooo. Aaaaaah. Dereeeeek!” She’s totally feeling his pain, that’s sure. “Where was this? If it was anywhere close, I can go and look through the trash cans.” God, Derek fucking loves her. If he hasn’t lost interest in girls and Erica didn’t have Boyd, he would marry her.

“No, it’s okay, Erica. I don’t think he even likes me. He looked at me like I ate his last cookie.” He does NOT sound hurt at that, no. Why would it matter, anyway? It was just a random guy. There are a lot of those. And what if he didn’t say these words about anyone in, like, 8 years? No big deal. “Oh, and I left without paying, so there’s that, too.”

“Well, then you go back and pay, and while you’re there, you can gauge his reactions.” It’s almost like magic how Erica’s tone of voice can change as soon as Derek’s emotions shift. It’s really puzzling, though, that she can even work her magic through the phone.

Derek takes a deep breath and fights hard not to blow a raspberry. “I don’t want to. It was really awkward, Erica. Believe me. He’s cute and seemed really nice, but he was so shocked when the other guy gave me his number. I don’t want to make him feel embarrassed. It’s not a big thing, really.” His voice is barely a whisper by the time he finishes, mumbling as he lies down on the couch, turns on his side and tucks his knees close to his chest.

“Alright. Do you want me to come over?” she offers and he can hear her whispering something to Boyd. “We can watch Love Actually again, even though it’s not even Christmas.”

“Thank you,” he chokes out and his throat feels too tight suddenly.

“I’m on my way. And don’t worry about the money, we’ll get it sorted.”

“I’m making coffee, bring vanilla ice cream,” he smiles weakly and he hears Erica chuckling.

“Bossy, I see. There’s nothing wrong, then, I see. Hang on there, Der, I’ll be there in 20.” And she hangs up.

Derek throws the phone on the sofa to his right and buries his face in his hands. It’s so stupid, to get so worked up because of so little. The guy didn’t even say yes and Derek is already seeing himself falling for him and getting hurt again. Objectively he _knows_ that he shouldn’t be like this, but he just can’t help it. Kate and then the short thing with Jennifer did the thing for him. He’s terrified of romantic relationships and as soon as there is the possibility of some attraction on _his_ part, he runs. And he knows that his family is right, and he even _wants_ to open up, but he just can’t. No matter how many hours he spent in therapy, it didn’t change his feelings, just his thoughts. His latest therapist said that it’s a good thing that he now knows that what he feels is not helping him, but he also said that he should go out to meet people. And he did. He had that terrible date with whatsisface but it was just terrible. Then he saw Stiles and he did the only thing he knows how to do: ran. Just like he ran after Kate, when he didn’t dare to face people and rather asked his mom to be homeschooled.

He’s brought out of his dark thoughts by the bell ringing, so he pads to the door and let’s Erica in. She has a huge plastic bag of ice cream, fruits and a bottle of Martini. When they get a spoon each, Erica brings a plate and a knife from the kitchen while Derek puts Love Actually on and then they settle in, close to each other, hiding under Derek’s old Looney Tunes blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why feelings needed to happen again... Sorry about that. O_o


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'ed so sorry about the mistakes. If you see any, just point at them.
> 
> I just love douchey Stiles and apparently I can't stop writing him that way. And yeah, well nerdy Derek... :3

Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that the hot Derek guy hasn’t called him. It’s not like either of them seemed too enthusiastic. The guy ran out on him, for God’s sake! At first he just laughed it off, telling Isaac that a guy this hot wouldn’t consider asking him out even if he was the last guy on Earth. And Isaac was really nice, and still is, and he keeps telling him to give him a few days.

When Saturday comes, Stiles wakes up with his stomach in knots. He’s anxious about what today will bring, if Derek will man up and approach him; or he’ll just simply ignore Stiles and go to Isaac for his coffee. What he doesn’t expect, though, is for Saturday to pass without Derek ever showing up. There’s a girl earlier that afternoon, though, who gives Isaac a 10 and tells him that Derek sends this. She, not subtly at all, checks out both him and Isaac, smiles and leaves.

That’s when Stiles loses all hope and starts to quietly mope. Derek sent his friend to take care of his business. Does it mean he was just joking when he asked Stiles out? Maybe Derek and that girl had a bet going and now she came to see who the poor fucker was that Derek played. If that’s the case, Stiles steels himself, he will NOT feel sorry about it; he is so much better than this. Anyway, Jackson would laugh at him for months if he told that he was set up and being played. So Stiles finishes his weekend shift and then focuses on his schoolwork and training.

For the following weeks Isaac looks extra sorry; he thinks it was his fault that Derek left without a word. No matter how many times Stiles tells him that _no, Isaac, it wasn’t your fault, the guy is simply a dick, don’t pay attention to him_ , Isaac just keeps sending these hurt puppy looks Stiles’ way.

Halloween comes shortly after. Stiles goes to a frat party with his friends, Scott and him dressed as Batman and Robin. The time it took to convince Scott to dress up as Robin…! Jackson is dressed as Smaug, Danny is Aladdin. When they arrive the party is already in full swing. They mingle, talk, and drink. Then drink some more. At some point they start playing strip poker and by the end, Stiles is in his briefs and one sock. Throughout the night, there’s this one girl, blonde and petite, staring at Stiles. Whenever he catches her eyes, she hastily turns away and pretends to be talking to someone. Since Stiles had enough drink, he actually feels like the jock he is supposed to be so he goes over and talks to her. They dance a little and then she’s dragging him to a bathroom on the first floor. Stiles’ higher brain functions stopped working around the 4th shot of tequila and 5th beer so he doesn’t know what’s happening before he’s pushed against the closed door of the bathroom and the girl –shit, he has no idea what her name is; Holy, or Hannah, or… something with ‘H’—is kissing him hard. Stiles only has time to put his beer down to hold her hip while she jumps in his arms, locking her feet behind his back. Instinct takes over and minutes pass when he realizes that she’s saying something.

“Did you bring any?”

“What?” he asks, ever so eloquent.

“Condom.”

“No…?” Because he clearly wasn’t planning on having sex. He should have, though.

“Right… Let me check the drawers,” she says and jumps off the counter she was sitting on, and starts rummaging in the drawers and on the shelves. With a triumphant “HA!” she comes back to him, sits back on the counter and kisses him.

Honestly, Stiles doesn’t know why he has sex with her. He’s always been so proud of himself for following his own rules and not screwing everyone when he’s drunk. He does it now, anyway. It just feels good. She’s responsive and enthusiastic and that’s all he needs. Later, he’ll blame it on the alcohol, the stress of his schoolwork and definitely not on some dumb guy who played him.

Jackson seems ecstatic when he hears that Stiles has slept with the girl –was it Haley? Scott, though, can see it on Stiles that he isn’t exactly on cloud 9 even though he should be, after having amazing sex. They don’t talk about it, though.

They go home for Thanksgiving and then spend Christmas with their family. Both of their parents are single parents, so the two families together make an American dream-like family. Although the fence needs painting, its white color is fading now… They go to a party on New Year’s Eve where Stiles makes out with a blonde guy. He’s really good at it but Stiles is a little less drunk than on Halloween but the guy is clearly not, so he can say no and stop things from going any further.

When they go back to start the new semester, unpacking and putting the clean clothes they brought from home back into their wardrobe, Scott sits him down, though.

“Dude, are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles says like a reflex. Scott just levels this disbelieving and seriously _bitch please_ -like look at him.

“You are not, so I’m asking you again. What happened?” He sounds concerned and he’s using his best puppy look to make Stiles open up. “Is it because of that glory hole blowjob?”

“Scoooott?!” Stiles squeaks. “Why would you even say that? I was totally fine after _that_.”

“HA! So there is something _else_ that you were _not_ “fine” after!” His air quotes are way too exaggerated for Stiles to _not_ roll his eyes.

“Yes, okay, there might have been something.” Stiles hisses and lies back down on the bed. “There was this guy at the café a few months ago.”

Scott lets out a choked snort and looks at Stiles with interest in his eyes.

“I accidentally bodychecked him and then almost dropped everything on the floor but instead everything ended up on me so I looked like a freaking walking menu. Anyway, when I asked him if he wanted to anything else and he said ‘a date’.”

“Really?” Scott is closer now, looking at Stiles’ face and trying to read his reactions. “And what did you say?”

“I couldn’t say anything because he ran out of the shop,” he confesses and hangs his head.

A few seconds pass, Scott stares into space and then—

“Oh.”

“’Oh’?” Stiles will always admit that half of the time he has no idea what Scott’s reactions are to. But then again, most of the time they’re not even relevant to the topic.

“You did _want_ to go out with him!” Boy, he looks so triumphant, it’s really endearing.

“Yeah, I did. Dude was seriously smoking.”

“OH! And you’re moping because—“

“I am NOT moping, Scott! How could you even say that?!” Stiles is beginning to think this ‘talking about feelings’ thing is not really their thing. They can talk about sex, but this is not their forte.

“Yes, you are. Stiles, you slept with Heather.” That’s her name, Heather! Stiles really likes that Scott is so good with names. “You never sleep with someone at a party.”

“Well yeah, I did. But it has nothing to do with—,“ he starts, but his words die out because Scott’s wearing his ‘no bullshit’ face.

“Yes, it has. And you are moping and you slept with her because you CAN’T ACCEPT THAT HE REJECTED YOU! God, Stiles, I thought this jock thing was just an act! When did you become such an ass?” And—wow, rude much?

“Scott, what the fuck, man?! I—It’s not because—I mean…” He’s stumbling over his own words when it dawns on him: it really is because of that. “Crap, dude, you are right! Holy shit.” His mouth is hanging open, while Scott just looks incredibly smug about it.

“You got so used to this whole ‘alpha male’ thing that now that there’s someone you want –because do not tell me you don’t want him, if he didn’t mean anything, you wouldn’t be so pissed at him—but can’t have, you throw a hissy fit.”

“What happened to me, Scotty? When did I become such a monster?” Stiles looks at his friend, helpless.

“I think we can easily blame this on Jackson, just like everything else,” and he’s grinning, the idiot. Although what he’s saying is totally right; you can always find something that makes Jackson responsible for all the shit you do.

“Remember when we were in tenth grade and swore that we will never become jocks, even though we were on the team? Yeah, me too, good times…”

“Stiles, you’ve been moping about the guy and now you’re slipping into this self-hate cycle. What about you quit this shit and we go out tomorrow? Just you and me, having a beer –just one, no need for other hookups to support your ego.” Scott pats his knee once and heads towards their TV to snatch the two controllers of their Xbox.

“Damn, Scott, when did you get this wise? You spend way too much time with Doc Deaton!” he chides playfully and scoots over on the couch so Scott can sit back and they can start playing.

Almost a month goes by and Stiles is totally over his rejection. Having one guy say no is not a huge thing, really, when he has currently 10 other trying to woo him. There’s always a hot guy or girl in the café, and after a competition when the team celebrates, there is always someone who wants to get a piece of him. Not that he wants them to, no. He just wants to enjoy college now, do his home works and run.

Of course, this, when his ego’s in equilibrium again, his jock persona under control, is when things have to go wrong.

The new semester starts and when he sees that his new Eng Lit teacher’s first name is Derek, he has a moment of rage overtaking, his sight going red. But then he calms down just as quick. Okay, so maybe he is still extremely pissed at the guy and every time he sees/hears the name ‘Derek’ he gets a little angry, or when he sees someone in leather jacket and sporting a stubble beard. But this is just another man named Derek and there must be like 100 of them in this city so it’s all cool.

Except when it’s not.

He’s climbing the stairs of their Eng Lit lecture hall to sit at the back, when the murmuring of the class stops. A few moments later, though, they start again, this time in a low voice. That makes Stiles turn around, looking for the cause of the hushed gossiping—because Stiles can tell anywhere what gossiping sounds like.

He almost drops his notebook he’s holding when his eyes land on their teacher.

_Derek_ Hale.

Asshole Derek from the café who thought he was too good for Stiles.

Stiles might bang his stuff on his desk just a little too hard, because the coffee of the girl sitting next to him sloshes to the desk. Not that he cares. He knows he will hate this class _so much_.

But when _Professor Hale_ starts talking, his voice is soft and a little uncertain. After telling them what the semester will be about, he starts the ‘real thing’, as he calls it.

After another 20 minutes Stiles wants to throw his book at the guy, because he’s infuriating. He’s _FUNNY_! The deities might hold something against Stiles because it is NOT fair, that someone this hot and funny and even adorable, damn, with his stuttering and nervous gestures, is a GIGANTIC self-absorbed DICK. NOT. FAIR.

He sends a text to Scott that ‘ _captain latte prick is here. hes my fucking prof. wanna murder him’_

Moments later Scott’s reply comes, saying _‘HAaahAHAHAHaHA’_. What an amazing friend, really. This definitely doesn’t help Stiles’ anger management problem at the moment.

He suffers through the class and is out of the room before _Prof Hale_ has time to close his notebook. While he’s walking toward the cafeteria to grab a sandwich, that he can eat while rambling about his _PROFESSOR_ to Scott, a plan is starting to form in his mind.

He will show _Captain Latte Prick_ how much he’s missing out on by not tapping the Stilinski. He’ll flirt with him and make him fall for him and then he’ll give him the cold shoulder and reject him. That’s what his mission is for the following semester.

With a huge smile on his face, he sits down next to Scott and tells him his plan. If Scott seems a little weird about it, it doesn’t matter because this plan will work.


	7. Chapter 7

Saying that Derek is shocked when he sees Stiles entering his classroom would be an understatement. His hands immediately start sweating and he has a hard time not fainting. He knows he got his feelings under control after his talk with Erica, but seeing the boy here, knowing that he’ll sit in his class every week is making him panic. He digs in his pocket for his phone and starts composing a text to Erica, hands shaking.

_He’s here, he’s in my Eng Lit class._

Erica immediately knows who he’s talking about, and sends a few supportive words.

_Der, ur gonna be alright. hes just a student in a classroom full of ppl. take a deep breath, u got this <3_

Erica sounds so sure that it gives him strength to stand straight and focus on his work, not at the cute guy sitting at the back, scowling furiously.

When class ends, he tries hard to avoid looking at Stiles, but he can’t stop admiring his _student’s_ (God, he’ll go to hell for this) nice rear.

After another class, lunch time comes, and he heads to the cafeteria. Yesterday he couldn’t really sleep; waking up to every movement outside his window. The neighbor’s dog barking half night didn’t help it at all. He grabs a coffee and goes to find Erica on their usual bench under a maple tree.

She’s munching on her fruit salad, reading a book. Most probably some terribly written erotica, because she knows how much it pains Derek to see trash like that. Derek is convinced that she only reads it for those 10 minutes every day while she’s waiting for him.

She waits while Derek sits down, gets his food out and is about to start eating, to interrogate him.

“How was it?”

“It was… surprisingly okay. After you reassured me that I am a competent adult, it was a lot easier to forget that I wanted to ask out one of my students.”

“See? Told you,” she smiles and then takes a small bite off the bigger piece of pineapple she has speared on her fork. “Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Der. You didn’t do anything wrong here. Okay, maybe running wasn’t the best to do, but you didn’t know he would be your student. Because you wouldn’t be like this if you haven’t met before, right? You wouldn’t want anything from one of your students who’s 7 years younger than you. Right?” she pushes, one expressive eyebrow raised.

“Right,” Derek mutters, but he’s not sure he convinced her. To tell the truth, he himself has no idea what he would have done, had he met Stiles today for the first time. Things wouldn’t be that different, though, he’s afraid. Stiles looks good, no matter what, and he’s sure that his surly mood was thanks to Derek ending up being his teacher. But even though he glared daggers at Derek throughout the whole class, Derek could feel it, that air of confidence and cheerfulness was still around him. That’s probably what caught Derek off guard in the café, he wasn’t used to people being this confident and giddy at the same time. Erica was a nerd, alright, but she was confident in a predatory way. Stiles was different, he was a little awkward, and it was adorable. Not that Derek would admit to it, like, ever.

But all this infatuation doesn’t matter, because Derek is a professor, a professional, an adult. He knows better than to start crushing on a student he’ll teach for a semester and then won’t see him ever again until the graduation ceremony.

He needs to get his mind off of this, and he has the perfect solution for that. He didn’t need to do this in a long time, but he feels like his hard-fought balance is disturbed.

* * *

He doesn’t call; he just goes there, parks his car on the driveway and knocks on the front door. It takes a few moments of shouting and shuffling on the other side before the door is being yanked open and the sight of a very exhausted and dirty Zach greets him. The look of surprise on his face is almost comical, but he collects himself within seconds and turns around to stalk back to the kitchen.

Derek follows, and stops short in the doorway, watching Zach press a soft kiss on his wife’s temple and heading upstairs. Derek can hear small footsteps on from upstairs and a loud shriek, then giggling. That must be Zoe, who’s almost three now.

The woman in front of him is wearing a pencil grey skirt and a white blouse, her hair still in pulled back in a tight chiffon.  She looks at him in surprise and a soft smile spreads across her face.

_“Laura,”_ he chokes out, as he buries his nose in her hair. It smells like lavender, like it always has.

“I’m sorry—“ he starts, but he doesn’t know what to say; how to apologize for not talking to her in years. The last time they had a real conversation was probably after Derek got out of the hospital after that night.

> Derek blamed her for long years for not intervening, even though he always felt that his anger was totally out of line. Laura might have been Kate’s classmate in high school, but they have never been close. Besides, Derek actively didn’t tell anyone he was dating and older girl, so Laura _didn’t_ know. But tell that to a deeply hurt teenager boy, who always had had his fights with his older, often patronizing, sister.
> 
> Soon after the accident, Laura went back to college. As soon as Derek could start his own studies, he left, too. Laura always sent him texts and emails for his birthday and Christmas but he never replied. His mother brought this up at least once and month but Derek didn’t say a single word during that conversation so she gave up after a year.

And here he is, now. Crying like a baby, holding his sister close, trying to make up for all those years that he couldn’t have her arms tight around him.

“I should have—I know I fucked up. I am sorry. Please forgive me. Please.” He’s sobbing, spewing snot all over Laura’s neat hair but she seemingly doesn’t care; she just rocks him from side to side, stroking his back gently.

In a way, it’s worse than being yelled at. Derek kind of wants her to yell at him. This way he just weeps more.

“I have forgiven you for being angry with me a long time ago. What I can’t forgive just yet is that you didn’t come sooner. I have a daughter, you know.” Her voice is so soft, full of concern.

“I know. Mom told me about her. Told me how she’s exactly like you were when you were this young. “

Laura lets him go and he tries to hold her close just a little longer, but eventually lets her.

“Come, have a coffee with me and let’s catch up on all those years.”

She gets two mugs and starts making coffee, while she asks him about his work, about his years in college and his friends.

When the coffee is done, they sit on the couch in the living room; her toes under his thighs as she turns towards him.

 “What made you come now?” she asks as she puts down her empty mug.

Derek knows that he should talk, that’s the reason why he came here. He thought that he made the mistake of not telling Laura about Kate and look where that got him. Now he wants to involve her, not that he thinks anything will happen with Stiles. He just wants to show Laura that he still loves and trust her, no matter what he did or said when he was angry and hurt.

“I met a guy at a coffee shop,” he starts, and Laura excitedly starts fidgeting. “I almost knocked him over, and then got nervous and asked him out. When his colleague gave me his phone number, I ran. Now he’s in one of my classes.” Having said all of this really makes him feel lighter; it’s like he can finally breathe.

“Oh, wow.” Laura gapes at her.  “That… why did you run, though?” she asks, and her voice is void of pity.

“He looked so affronted when I said it that I thought it’d be best if I left him alone. I haven’t been back there ever since,” he confesses, looking down where her hand is now on his thigh.

 “Do you want to get to know him?”

“I think…?” Derek looks at her. “He seemed so energetic and he’s cute.”

“Oh God, Derek Hale, you got it bad. You have a really stupid smile on your face, you know,” she smiles and nudges his leg with her foot.

“I’m afraid,” he whispers. Laura immediately stops laughing and scoots closer to hold him tight. “I’m afraid that if I let it happen, if I don’t keep my feelings under control, it will be the same as it was with—“ He just can’t say her name. She doesn’t deserve to be remembered, not in any way. “And I know that it won’t, since it’s obviously one-sided, but in the end, it would be very similar: my heart would break again.”

“Why do you think you would fall for him?” asks Laura, bless her heart, hitting the nail on the head.

“Because there’s something about him that just caught my eyes, that hasn’t happened since… then.” He gulps down a huge mouthful of coffee, making a face at the bitter aftertaste. “And if that weren’t enough, we’ll have a class together every week. If today’s class was anything to go by, he’ll glare at me throughout the semester. You know what I am like under pressure…” he starts, but then remembers, that, in fact, no, Laura has no idea, because she hasn’t been there when he freaked out when exam period came. He winces a little, knowing that Laura is thinking the same.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, ruffling his hair like she did all those years ago. “But you said that he doesn’t like you, so I think it won’t be a problem. You are a lot of things, Der, but you are not stupid. After getting burnt like you did, you won’t fall for another person who just wants to use you and then throw you away.” She leans closer and puts her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbles, resting his head on hers.

“You need to let people in, eventually, you know. Not all of them are bad. And that’s what your family is for, Derek. We protect you, no matter what. You just need to let _us_ in first.” She reaches out and he takes her hand, linking their fingers and breathing slowly, puffs of air matching the other’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was totally not planned. Feelings just happened again. I swear the next chapter will be better. Apparently, Derek's POV is always gloomy and full of manpain, and Stiles is just an ass when it's his turn.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I know it took me forever, I am SOOOOO sorry!!! I had school and work and UGH
> 
> I'm spending Easter away from home so I won't be able to upload. I'm not sure whether I can write or not, I think even if I can, it won't be more than one chapter. :/
> 
> See you around the 21st!

When Stiles came up with his “ **Seducing the honorable Professor Hale** ” plan, he clearly didn’t think it through. Why the hell is it so difficult to choose a pair of pants and a shirt? He’s been staring at his reflection for minutes and then he got naked just to start it again. This was 30 minutes ago and Stiles is still standing in his briefs, amongst a huge pile of clothes, unsure of what to wear. Because, make no mistake, he wants to be irresistible. He wants to make a good impression, okay. Wearing graphic tees and plaid shirt is not going to make Prof Hipster Glasses double check him. The sad thing is, Stiles only has 3 nice shirts and 2 pairs of tight pants; both khakis in different shades. He is in some serious need of a makeover.

But it’s not going to happen today, so let’s go back to the task at hand, namely choosing from those _five_ pieces of clothing which combination is the best. To give himself time, he runs to the bathroom to brush his teeth, thinking about colors that compliment his eyes and complexion. He spits and rinses and stops for a second to mourn the normal life he used to have, when things like complexion wouldn’t even mean a single thing to him. But this is what you get for following Lydia, his former crush/now best female friend, while she’s shopping. Stiles is man enough to admit that he only goes for the free treat Lydia buys him to thank him for his patience. Maybe they should buy some stuff for him the next time, because he can’t go on with 3 shirts and 2 pairs of pants for too long.

As he goes back to his room, his eyes fall on a picture of his high school graduation party, where he and Scott went to a gay bar. He was wearing the dark blue shirt with the lighter khaki pants and he got hit on quite a few times. He even remembers one guy telling him how the shirt’s color and his eyes were in perfect contrast.

So yeah, this is what he’ll wear today, he nods to himself, and starts to dress up. He’ll meet Scott at lunch, because he had an early class, and then they can plot for Stiles’ afternoon Eng Lit lecture.

* * *

Predictably, Scott is surprised when he sees him. So are Danny and Jackson, who join them a few moments after Stiles.

“Wow, man. You have a date today?” Danny asks as he looks him over appreciatively.

“Dan, don’t even ask. He’s gone crazy,” Scott replies and shakes his head a little while he digs in his mashed potatoes.

“I thought that’s the way he was born,” Jackson chimed in.

“Har-har, Jackson, you are very funny,” Stiles says sarcastically. “Answering your question, Danny, no, unfortunately I don’t have a date today. Keyword being _today_.” He informs them and smiles smugly.

“What the hell does that even mean? Jesus, Stilinski, we’re having lunch, skip the riddles and spill the bean!” Jackson cries and stuffs his face with a huge spoonful of potato.

“He has the hots for Prof Hale,” comes Scott’s helpful reply. Scratch that, it’s not helpful at all, because Jackson chokes on his food and then starts laughing. His head turns read and tears spring to his eyes.

“Dude, really?” he sounds disbelieving as he dries his tears. “That guy, as I’ve heard, is a hermit and celibate.”

Danny, on the other hand, seems to stay completely unaffected. When Jackson’s hiccups stop, he turns at Danny and looks at him like he’s weird.

“What?” he asks, looking confused. “He’s hot. I understand him.”

“Back off, he’s mine,” Stiles blurts, going red as two sets of eyes turn to stare at him. Scott just sighs in defeat.

After a moment’s silence, though, it looks like that something clicks to place in Jackson’s brain because his eyes widen and he snorts.

“You can’t be serious. Are you going after the dude?” He looks around, meeting eyes with Scott who just nods; glaring at Danny who seems to be approve and Stiles, of course, who looks a little angry and very determined. “Jesus fuck, you are. Why the hell do you need that dude? Are you that out of pussy and dick?”

A loud thump signals that Danny, yet again, banged his head on the desk, groaning loudly. He is Jackson’s oldest friend but he is surprised every time Jackson is especially rude or obtuse.

“It’s because the guy rejected him,” Scott provides and Stiles is really feeling like hitting him with his tray, full or not, because he’s supposed to keep this a secret.

“WHAT. YOU ASKED YOUR OWN PROF OUT ON THE FIRST DAY OF CLASS?!” Jackson shouts. Several people turn their way and Stile can only hope they didn’t understand what he said.

“NOOOOOOOO. Jesus Christ, Jackson, the fuck?!” Stiles shouts back, almost just as loud. Damn, gossiping will start soon.

“The dude rejected him a few weeks ago when—“ Scott starts but Stiles covers his mouth with his hand.

“Scott, dammit, can’t you keep your mouth shut?! I told you that this is something to keep between ourselves! Why am I friends with you all, again?” He slowly lets go of Scott when it seems like he won’t open his mouth again.

“Because otherwise you’d be alone?” asks Danny, totally meaning what he says.

“Sometimes I think that would be better…” Stiles says grumpily.

“It only takes a few words, Stilinski,” is Jackson’s reply.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Shut up and eat.” And to be a good example, he starts shoveling food in his mouth.

* * *

After lunch, Stiles is excited to see Prof Hale. He has a plan, sort of, not really elaborate, though, but he knows what he needs to do.

**Step 1** : The  “ _I am so interested in your class_ ” act

When Stiles enters the class room, there are only a few people. He goes straight to the front rows and sits down right in front of the teacher’s desk. Prof Hale comes in a few minutes later, wearing a gray button up shirt and a black vest. His ever-present glasses are perched on his nose and his black shoes are reflecting the lights on the ceiling. Stiles has a moment of doubt about this whole plan, seeing as the man is way too composed and just… uptight to flirt with, but Stiles won’t back down.

As soon as the door closes after the last student, the class starts. _Derek_ looks over the students and Stiles doesn’t waste the opportunity to wink at the guy. He seems thrown off by it, which makes Stiles smile like a lunatic, if a little on the dangerous predator side. Derek, though, recovers quickly and continues talking.

By 25 minutes in, Stiles is bored, has no idea what they’re talking about and is angry at _Derek_ for not paying attention to him and, in those few instances when their eyes meet, ignoring him. That only makes Stiles more determined to succeed and he forces his attention on the things the professor is saying, not on his bunny teeth showing every time he smiles at a student’s correct answer.

When class ends, Stiles deliberately drops a few notes on the floor so he’s need to dive head first between the desks, his ass up in the air. He doesn’t know if Derek saw it, but judging by how quickly he averts his eyes when Stiles looks at him, he’d say he did.

It takes a little more pointless shuffling for the other students to leave, but once the room is clear, Stiles strides towards Derek. It’s not like he’s using his “predator hunting down prey” walk, or that he has one, but determined steps, hands in pockets, lowering his head while looking up through his eyelashes are a must. As soon as he’s there by the desk, Derek clears his throat and starts rearranging his notes.

“Hi,” is all Stiles says.

“Oh, hi,” is Derek’s nervous answer.

“I really liked the class. You really are a good lecturer.” Stiles heard once that being nice is a sure-fire way to charm a girl. He supposes the same applies to guys, too.

“Thank you.” Derek looks up at him for the first time, his ears going red after a few moments of eye contact, and then turns away, back to his desk.

“The way you say things,” Stiles starts, and leans against the desk, hip resting on it, drawing patterns over the wood of the desk with his fingers. “How they roll off your tongue. It’s really mesmerizing, you know. I couldn’t pay attention to anything else.”

He hopes that the double meaning doesn’t miss Derek, and he’s satisfied when he can see the teacher swallowing hard and fidgeting a little.

“That’s… very nice of you to say, thanks” Derek grabs his notes and shoves them in his bag. “I—I have class in 10, and I still—“ he starts, flailing a little, trying to point at the door, when Stiles interrupts him.

“Yeah, yeah, me too. It’s okay, though, I can walk with you,” Stiles says, aiming for nonchalant. Derek’s eyes budge and he nearly trips over.

“You don’t need to, really,” he mumbles, not looking at Stiles.

“But I want to. I enjoy your company,” Stiles smirks to himself, and carefully touches Derek’s upper arm. The man flinches like he was hit by a lightning bolt and stares at Stiles. He only smiles at him as he slowly lets go of Derek’s arm, slow enough to stroke it gently.

Derek swallows almost audibly, and turns back to stare straight ahead. His brows are furrowed, his cheek red and there’s a drop of perspiration on his temple. Stiles needs to remind himself that this is only a game for him, nothing more. But that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate Derek’s appearance, so he drinks in every detail of the man’s face.

“Well, I’m going this way,” says Derek as they stop at the stairs. “Have a nice weekend, Stiles. See you next week,” he sways the books in his hand a little, nods at Stiles and goes up the stairs.

Stiles, grinning like an idiot, enjoys the view of a very firm and cute bubble butt ascending the stairs. He’s grinning, because this little chat and those few minutes gave him a lot to work into his plan. Namely: 1) Professor Hale is a huge dork, which… cute. 2) He is really uncomfortable when complimented, which… cute. 3) He remembers Stiles’ name! 4) He didn’t pull away, when Stiles stroke his (surprisingly defined and hard) biceps.

All in all, Stiles is satisfies with his plan and is already planning his next move when he sits down just as his next class starts. If you’d ask him, what the teacher is talking about, he couldn’t tell you a single thing (not even the subject), but he would try to describe how soft Derek’s stubble looked and what color his blush resembled to. And no, no matter what you say, Stiles is, and always will be, totally objective in this whole seduction thing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, guys, and sorry about the REALLY short chapter. This week has been crazy but the next one looks a little more chill so I want to write more then.

Derek’s day has started off very nice; it was promising. And then it all went to shit when he stepped into his Eng Lit class and saw Stiles. The form fitting dark navy shirt showed off strong arms and broad shoulders. What Derek hadn’t seen behind the counter at the coffee shop was a really firm ass, perfectly accentuated by light khaki pants that were up in the air as Stiles dove head first in his bag for his note book.

He let himself a moment to stare when Stiles _winked_ at him, but then forced his permanent teacher scowl back in place. After that it got more difficult to stay composed with each passing moment because Stiles started fidgeting, obviously getting bored and fighting hard to concentrate on what was happening.

When class ended, Stiles stayed to talk, and seeing his eyes glinting mischievously made it really hard for Derek to keep his face neutral. He could swear that when Stiles mentioned how he liked what Derek was saying, he meant something dirty, but Derek isn’t good in the whole flirting thing, so he can’t be sure. That’s exactly why, though, he turned red and started babbling. Then proceeded to run away. Or tried to, because Stiles was persistent. Derek practically ran up the stairs when he left Stiles at the bottom of it.

And that’s why he is now having a mini freak out in the empty teachers’ lounge, breathing hard against the closed door, eyes closed and silently cursing himself and his luck. A hard push shoves him off the door, though, and turning around, he sees Erica balancing a stack of books and a coffee in her hands. She looks at him like he has grown a second pair of ears, so just as she does usually, and heads to the closest desk to put her stuff down.

“You seem like you’ve seen a ghost. What the hell happened to you?” she starts, all nice manners and kindness.

“Stiles,” is all Derek can _breathe_.

Erica suddenly stops, turns around to face him. She stares at him for a moment and then pushes him backwards until both of them are sitting on the couch.

“Details.” She doesn’t say anything more, but her tone speaks for her: she’s concerned and a little worried about Derek, but mostly curious and amused.

“He—I don’t know. It’s that… You know me,” Derek stutters, looking nervously at Erica. Her face is all open and patient, though, so he soldiers on. “I am really not good at this but I think he was flirting with me.” As soon as it’s out, Derek has to look down to hide the blush running up his neck to his face.

“Did he,” comes Erica’s reaction, which, to be honest, surprises Derek. He looks up at her, and now her expression is a little darker than before. “What did he say?”

Derek can’t help the little choking sound he lets slip, but the coughs awkwardly to try and save the situation. Judging by the eyeroll from Erica, he wasn’t really smooth about it.

“Well he said something like… the way I say things is mesmerizing. And he can’t look anywhere else. And that he enjoys my classes. Then he touched my arm.” Derek’s voice is barely audible and at the mention of the touch, he shivers a little.

“Oh, that’s good!” Erica exclaims. “I knew the kid was good, but saying this to a literature teacher… Damn, boy knows how to play.”

Derek blinks a few times at her, trying to understand what is happening around him.

“What?” is all he can muster.

“Oh, Derek…” Erica tuts. “You should pay attention to the gossip going around this very room. Even the professors have realized that Stiles is one of the popular jocks who have a harem hanging off of their arms.”

Derek has to admit, he’s never participated in gossiping—he thinks it’s mean spirited and hinders actual school work between classes. But apparently his colleagues don’t share his views, because they have been talking about Stiles several times.

“Oh,” he repeats. He can feel the color leave his face as his heart sank. It’s one thing to have fears that someone will play him again and hurt him, but hearing it confirmed, that yes, Stiles is a _player_ who would probably only use him, still feels like a knife to his chest. Not that there is any chance that they would be together, especially now, that Derek knows, what Stiles is really like.

Erica stays silent, while he processes everything, only touches his arm to reassure him that yes, she’s there for him, if he needs her. He’s grateful for it, but not ready to talk, so he just covers her smaller hand and stares at the wall.

They sit there for minutes, when the rest of the staff entering shakes them out of their gloomy mind set. Erica squeezes his biceps, leans closer to plant a small kiss on his cheek and then leaves him on the couch. Derek tries to summon his strength and then a couple of moments later he pushes himself off the couch and goes to his class.

* * *

That night, after going home, he just can’t sit in one place. He’s moving around all the time, full of anxious energy. He checks the time and decides on a sudden whim: he grabs the car keys on the way out of the flat and heads for his car.

It takes only 45 minutes to get to the bar, park and enter. At this time of the night, as usual, the bar is already in full swing: sweaty bodies gyrating on the dance floor, others discreetly exchanging touches at the counter and in the corners.

Derek goes straight to the bartender, asks for his usual drink and sits down to find someone willing.

It takes less than 15 minutes to find a first and he guides the man back to the bathroom, finishing him off in record time. So what if Derek is a little desperate to hear the guy’s noises, to feel him fall apart in his mouth, in his hands. The cursing and whispered ‘God, thank you’ make him feel a little better about himself, and by the time the next guy walks in, he’s actually feeling a lot better.

Two hours and 4 guys later, Derek feels that the emotional turmoil of the day is finally behind him, so he washes his hand and rinses his mouth, then leaves the club, almost humming to himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I said I have two chapters planned? These last two weren't those. I got a little carried away, because I think I needed to add what I added to make more sense. So now we're back on track. ;)

After his class with Derek, Stiles feels invincible. Probably that’s one of the reasons why he says yes to Jackson insistence to go out, even though it’s still the middle of the week and there’s a frat party this weekend. Well, Fraturday.

As much as he wants to punch Whittemore, he has to give him one thing: he knows how to throw a party and which parties to go to.

He has 20 minutes to get ready after his last class ends, so he takes a quick shower, foregoing shaving because he shaved last weekend, _dammit_. He puts a dark green shirt and khaki pants on, and makes yet another mental note to call Lyida for some shopping advice.

By the time he’s ready and heads for the main hall, Scott and Danny are sitting there, both staring at Scott’s phone and laughing out loud. Scott has a few new stupid animal videos every day so Stiles goes to them to see what they’re laughing at.

He’s laughing so hard that tears are in his eyes when Jackson finally comes down. Having taken almost an hour to get ready, he looks exactly the same as always, Stiles notices. But this is something he will never tell him because he values the integrity of his balls too much for that. Jackson has really strong legs that he wants nowhere near his crotch.

They say goodbye to the few people loitering around the room and head for the car. Danny, as always, is the designated sober driver, and, as usual, Jackson is the one riding shotgun.  Stiles and Scott sit in the back, continuing watching the video of yet another silly cat getting scared by its own tail and shadow.

Half an hour or so passes, which means they have run out of all the videos so Stiles starts to get fidgety.

“How far away is this place, anyway?” he asks as he checks his watch. 9.47pm. Night’s still young.

“Just a couple of minutes more. Stay put, Stilinski,” comes Danny’s answer as he exits the highway and heads towards a quiet neighborhood.

Stiles grudgingly turns towards the window, although it’s pitch black and he can’t see anything but a few lights coming from living rooms and front porches. He’s so lost in staring at the flashes of light that he doesn’t notice the car slowing down, only comes to when it suddenly stops. He looks around and follows Scott when he leaves to get out of the car.

The street is quiet, although sounds of a party can be faintly heard. Jackson leads the way to the door which immediately opens as soon as his knuckles tap it.

There’s an older guy opening the door for him, his blond hair resting in short curls on his head. His greenish blue eyes rake over the four of them slowly, spending a little more time on Danny, accompanied by a full-body once over and then he smiles at them –at Danny, really—and lets them in.

As they’re heading to the keg like it has a magnetic power that they can’t resist, passing at least twenty people who are surely over 25, Stiles turns to Jackson with huge eyes.

“Dude, are these guys even in college?”

Jackson’s perfect eyebrow rises dangerously close to his hairline and to make it sure that his message is perfectly understood, his ‘Stilinski, you are unsurprisingly stupid again’ face joins the game, too.

“How the hell do you know them?” Stiles shouts over the music, grabbing Jackson’s arm.

“Stilinski, you might be the hot thing at school but there are a lot more to being the king of it,” Jackson answers, voice hard and shrugs Stiles’ hand off of him. With his head held high, he goes over a bunch of girls and starts chatting them up. Stiles just stares after him, still a little shocked. He’s never thought Jackson took his loss of status this hard.

But if you’d ask Stiles, he would tell you that he doesn’t actually mind it that he is only popular in college. He has never been one of those trend setters that Jackson obviously is, and he doesn’t feel the need to be it.

So he just shakes his head and follows Jackson, then joins Scott at the keg. He skims the room, seeing a lot of decidedly not college students and mentally congratulates Jackson for choosing the right crowd for the night. After all, he needs to up his game if he wants to seduce Derek, who’s definitely not used to the college dating scene. And what place could be better than a party full of people close to 30?

He takes a few minutes to look around to find the best person to approach. There’s a group of four guys, talking animatedly, beer in each one’s hand. Not far from there there are 5 girls, looking quite hipster with thick glasses and denim shorts, smoking and laughing at something. On the couch there’s a couple making out, and a quite angry looking girl sitting next to them, arms crossed over her chest, frown on her pretty face.

Stiles fills her cup, gets another one ready and heads over to the girl. She looks like this is the last place she wants to be at, and she keeps looking around as if waiting for someone to show. She’s not the same age as most of the people, though; she seems a little younger than the rest, closer to Stiles’ age.

He walks over and plops down on the arm rest next to her. Without a single word she takes one of the drinks off him and gulps down half of it. Stiles’ eyes widen and he, too, drinks, merely out of solidarity, of course.

They sit there for a few minutes when Stiles can’t take of the silence anymore so he starts talking.

“Do you know anyone here?”

“Yeah,” is the only answer the girl gives.

“Okay…,” Stiles agrees, and takes another sip of his beer.

“What’s your name?” he tries again.

“Cora,” is the gruff reply.

“My name is Stiles,” he brightens up, thinking that now they can finally start talking.

“Don’t really care.” And with that single comment she bursts all his enthusiasm.

Stiles sits there for a few minutes more but when Cora doesn’t do anything that indicates she would want to talk, he walks off and refills his cup.

After Cora, Stiles talks to another older girl. This one’s named Clara and she’s a ginger bombshell; huge smile, mischievous eyes and a large cleavage. He doesn’t have any more luck than he had with Cora; she just smiles at him and gives him a pitying look.

Stiles mans up and goes over to the guys, where he spots Danny making out with the guy who let them in. Hmm. Apparently not everyone has the same problems as he does. Behind the two of them, there is a huge, bald guy; broad shoulders, bulging biceps and firm pecs. Stiles looks him over with hungry eyes and when they meet the eyes of the guy, he is a little speechless because he expected something _dangerous_ there, not the biggest teddy bear to walk on Earth. With a sigh, he drinks more beer and slowly starts giving up. This whole hitting on older people thing is really not working out for him.

Two hours pass with drinking, playing drinking games and dancing with girls who are getting way too drunk and don’t actually care about who they’re grinding against now. Stiles can feel the alcohol buzzing in his system, but he wants something more. He should feel fucking fantastic; he hit on his teacher and the dude was totally flustered, meaning he is game.

He’s dancing with a short and chubby girl, getting dry humped, when Danny walks over to him.

“We’re heading out to a bar with a few of the guys. You coming?” he yells in his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, let me finish this—Haha, oh look, it’s empty,” he yells and turns the cup upside down. “How long has this been empty?” he asks the girl, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

She just shrugs and walks over to another guy and continues dancing the same way.

“Okay, come on,” Danny grabs the cup and throws it in the general direction of the trash can, then drags Stiles out of the house and into the car.

Scott is already there, and—

“Heeeey, Kiraaa! Whadaya doin’ here?” he asks with huge gestures, when he sees her pressed against Scott.

“Scott called me to let me know you’re going out. I’m coming with you,” she says, like this is the simplest thing in the world. And well, fuck, actually it is. Stiles snorts to himself and rubs his face to get the fog of alcohol out of his eyes.

When Jackson arrives, too, Danny starts the car and drives back out on the highway. They are driving for a good half an hour and Stiles is nodding off when the car stops.

He clambers out of the car with the help of Scott and Kira and looks around.

“The shit is this place?” he asks eloquently.

“A bar, you idiot,” Jackson replies helpfully as he grabs Stiles’ arm and guides him through the door. The place is dark, and he trips a few times but Danny comes helping, holding him from his other side.

He can’t see much but the bar and counter look familiar, so he turns to Danny and asks:

“Have we been here before?” He flails his arm around to indicate the place and he almost karate chops a guy in the neck.

“Yeah, last semester,” says Danny and pushes a drink in Stiles’ hand. It’s some fruity shit that tastes like sugar and fruits but he drinks is anyway. Alcohol is alcohol and that shit tastes fucking amazing, anyway.

He sips his drink and looks around, taking in all the guys and the few women. Hm. Must be a gay bar, then. Stiles shrugs to himself and observes the people around him. Jackson is talking to the few girls, of course. That’s so Jackson, coming to a gay bar to hit on the straight girls coming here not to be hit on.

Stiles shakes his head because damn, that train of thought was a little too much for his alcohol fueled brain cells.

He looks for Scott and Kira, and spots them not far from the bar, dancing and making out. He needs to smile at them because they are just so cute. Aww.

He looks down at his drink, thinking how this shit is totally girly and makes him have girly reactions, but finishes it anyway. He’s manly enough, a little girl cocktail won’t hurt his self-confidence.

Danny is with the blond guy from the party, rutting against each other on the dance floor. He looks at them, noticing how beautiful their contrast is: Danny’s dark hair, skin and eyes and the guys sandy blond hair, taller and paler figure and light blue eyes. Damn, that drink is making him sappy.

When he looks back at the crowd, there’s a guy just standing there, staring at him. Stiles stands up straighter, sweaty palm slipping on the counter as he tries to arrange himself in a sexy pose. The guy doesn’t seem to mind, though, because he’s getting closer; with a slow swag and eyes that never leave Stiles’.

Stiles needs to gulp as the guy stops in front of him, towering over him. He has beautiful, almost yellow eyes and full red lips. His shoulder length black hair is straight and his black clothes hide strong muscles.

“Come dance,” the man says in a rough voice, leaning in to whisper/yell in Stiles’ ear.

He can’t really do anything but follow, the man leading him in the crowd of people.

They dance like there’s no tomorrow, the guy’s hard cock nudging his a few times. His hands are all over Stiles, grabbing his ass and pushing the fabric between his ass crack while he licks up Stiles’ sweaty neck. He doesn’t know how long they’re dancing for, but when the guy squeezes his belly too hard when he’s behind him, Stiles realizes that he really, _really_ needs to pee. He excuses himself and stumbles to the bathroom.

It seems empty so he goes to the first stall. He is fumbling with the belt and zipper, trying to work on both at the same time, when someone knocks on the door.

“Dude, I’m trying. Give me a break. And there’s no one else here, damn.” He finally manages to get the belt open and turns towards the toilet when he sees the hole in the wall.

He can’t help the teenaged school girl giggle that he lets out; because of course the bar was familiar! This is where that guy sucked him off in the stall! And it was _him_ tapping the divider.

And when he doesn’t do anything—yep, there it is, a finger reaching through the hole and circling it.

Stiles stands still for a moment. He tries to think but damn, he’s so drunk. He can let the guy suck him off here –if he can—or he can go back out and find the dark stranger to go home with.

“Ah, fuck it,” he murmurs to himself, because in this state, there’s no chance he’ll find the guy again, and who is he to deny a free blow job?

So he shuffles closer to the hole and puts his dick through. He’s actually immensely proud of himself because he is hard and ready, which is a big thing, considering the alcohol he has in his system.

Just like last time, the guy stays silent and starts to work. It takes and embarrassingly short time for him to get Stiles off, who’s panting and barely standing long enough to tuck himself away. When he catches his breath, he leans against the divider and strokes it gently.

“Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude, so goooooooooooood,” is his way of thank you. With some fumbling, he even manages to stick his thumb in the hole, a sort of thumbs up for the guy on the other side.

When he stands up straight, ready to go, he realizes that he came in here to pee, so he does it quickly with minimum spilling, hitting the porcelain, mostly. He fixes his clothes and then leaves the bathroom, grinning to himself. This night was even better than he expected!

After a few minutes of just going around, he finds his friends who are all sitting together at the counter, finishing their drinks. He joins them, smiles like a lunatic, and when they stand to leave, he only needs Danny’s and Blondie’s arms around his waist to make it to the car.

He falls asleep as soon as it starts moving and the next morning he has no idea, how he got to bed.


	11. Chapter 11

Derek always thought he knows himself pretty well, has known since he became who he is, sadly quite early in his life. That’s why he is surprised and very conflicted about his current feelings.

He knows that Stiles isn’t genuinely interested in him, that he’s probably looking for another person, a bigger fish, to add to his list of conquests. Objectively, he knows it. And he also hates it, because based on the few papers that the class needed to hand in, Stiles seemed like an intelligent and mature young man. He was friends with Jackson Whittemore – whom even Derek has heard about – the infamous King of Freshmen and star athlete. Derek thought maybe Stiles wasn’t like him, that he was here to actually study and not just to have the college experience with parties and casual sex. Apparently, Derek was sadly mistaken, though. He was so focused on the only aspect that he knew about Stiles, that he ignored every other information he could have had. And paying attention to it would have made his life so much easier! Because now he is torn, his emotions all messed up.

On one hand, he knows that from now on, anything coming from Stiles is only to spike his seduction success rate – term used by Erica, who is fiercely protective of Derek in this matter. Derek can’t help but wonder what else she knows about the Stilinski kid but he doesn’t ask. He listens, though, when Erica sits him down and starts listing off Stiles’ affairs: mostly one night stands at parties and a few longer relationships. Derek knows what college is like (although he himself was never like the rest of his ‘normal’ class mates): carnal needs, alcohol and living for today. He sees flyers of parties every day and a lot of his students come to his classes hungover or being still drunk. He also knows that as a member of the athletic team, Stiles is one of the popular kids and this warrants permanent attention from both sexes. And based on what Erica says, he fully takes advantage of it.

But on the other hand – and this is where Derek feels torn, and a little hate towards himself that he thought he has already left behind – he doesn’t want Stiles to stop flirting with him. Because Derek is a vain man and it actually feels nice that someone pays attention to him – and unlike at the bar, he actually knows who the other person is. He is aware of it that thinking like this is not helping his case, may also ruin his confidence that was so hard to build: because he knows himself enough to acknowledge, that if Stiles continues his advances, Derek will fall for him, no matter what.

He tells all this to Erica over some huge home-made hamburgers and he isn’t surprised by her suggestion at all. She thinks he should use Stiles’ flirtation to regain more of his confidence (yes, there are people out there who want to hit on Derek), but take it and leave it, not reacting to it. Erica is also sure, that it will drive Stiles mad, because he is not used to working hard for something – or someone. If he stops after Derek is impassive to his macho crap, they’ll know he only wanted to have sex with Derek, make him one on his long lists of partners.

He’s not going to tell Erica that, but Derek hopes Stiles won’t stop.

The next day after the burger confessions is Sunday and Erica decides to take him to the movies, because ‘that new movie with that hot guy’ is on, so they are standing in line for the tickets when someone taps him on the shoulder.

He turns around to see Laura standing there, smiling at him, albeit unsure. Zach is standing behind her, looking him and Erica over, holding Zoe’s hand who is hiding behind her dad’s leg but looks at the two of them with interest.

 There’s a moment of hesitation on both his and Laura’s side with  Erica looking between the two of them but then Derek’s body is moving on its own accord and he scoops Laura up, hugging her tightly. She giggles a little when her feet leave the floor – God, did he miss that laugh – and plants a wet and loud kiss in his cheek as soon as she’s standing on her feet again. They hold on tight for a few more seconds, swaying from side to side and Derek catches Zach’s eyes over her shoulder. He is smiling, a fond look on his face and curtly nods at Derek. It makes Derek’s heart swell and he feels like he’s found home again. His sister and her husband are willing to overlook his stupidity and move on to share their lives with him. He is really close to tearing up but he blinks a few times as he lets go of Laura.

Erica watches them with hesitation and then coughs a little, reminding Derek that she is actually there.

“Oh yeah, right,” he mumbles and turns to Erica, sliding his palm over her back and drawing her closer to them.” Laura, this is Erica, my best friend and colleague.” Erica looks at him, maybe a little surprised by his sudden emotions and smiles, touching his shoulder as she stretches her hand out for Laura to take.

“Erica, this is Laura, my sister and her husband, Zach, and my niece, Zoe there, hiding behind her dad.”

At this, Erica’s eyes grow huge but Laura smoothes the tension.

“It’s so very nice to meet you,” she says and goes to hug a very taken aback Erica. Slowly, she puts her arms around Laura and hugs her back. “You have no idea how good it is to see a friend of Derek’s. It must have taken a lot to make him open up to you,” she winks at Erica, who is now totally on with the program and laughs with Laura.

Derek has a moment of sudden fear because these two women in the same room could destroy nations, but his thoughts are interrupted by said women.

“We’re watching Rio 2, what are you buying tickets for?” Laura asks as she hands her wallet to Zach and orders him to buy tickets for them. Same old Laura, some things never change; ever the bossy one. Derek smiles to himself as he remembers countless similar afternoons when he was shoved hard to buy tickets for them.

“Ah, no,” Erica says. “We’re watching Captain America 2. You know, comic book movie for Derek, hot guys for me,” she adds with a cheeky grin. Laura laughs with her, the kind of laugh that can make your day better, and then says goodbye and leave them to buy their tickets.

Erica does so quickly and ushers Derek to get popcorn and drinks for them. She is surprisingly holding back, not asking any questions. Derek, though, knows that it’ll change soon enough.

They watch the movie – Erica is moaning loudly several times and Derek can’t decide if it’s from the popcorn or Chris Evan’s ass in that suit. Probably both, because Derek swears he does the same.

When it’s over, Laura, Zach and Zoe are there waiting for them. Zoe is still holding on to her dad, not letting him go, her tiny knuckles turning white from the strength he hold his hand.

“How was it?” Laura asks as soon as they are close enough.

“Don’t even ask… Don’t even,” Erica answers and Derek is sure he hears her sigh.

“So what are your plans for the rest of the afternoon?” Zach turns to Derek as he lifts Zoe up. She’s eying Derek wearily, and turns to whisper something in Zach’s ear. That makes Zach laugh and he tells her that “no, he is not homeless, he just has a beard, sweetie”. Derek turns into a lobster, he’s blushing so hard.

“Actually, we were talking about going eating. What are you doing later on?” Erica questions.

“That’s perfect, because we wanted to grab something, too!” Laura cries. “Let’s go get a pizza or something,” she prompts and drags Erica towards the exit.

Zoe is shrieking happily at the mention of pizzas, which is totally understandable, since Derek is dying to have some greasy, meaty, cheesy deliciousness in his belly.

In the parking lot they depart ways, Erica and Derek going to his car and Zach jumping in behind the steering wheel of theirs.

As soon as Derek starts the car, the awaited onslaught starts.

“YOU HAVE A SISTER???!!” Erica yells at him and she can barely contain herself from not reaching out and shaking him.

“Yes, I do. But before you start it,” he cuts Erica off when she opens her mouth to talk, “I haven’t mentioned her because the last time I talked to her was 10 years ago.” His voice betrays his cool exterior, though, as it cracks at the last word.

Erica, the intuitive best friend she is, already connects the dots between now and what happened 10 years ago. Understanding lights up her features and he reaches out to put a reassuring hand on Derek’s thigh.

“What happened?”

“Laura and Kate were class mates in high school and I blamed her for long years for not doing something when she could have. I know now that she probably had no idea because I hid it rather well, but tell this to a 16-year-old, emotionally traumatized boy. I was trying to blame someone else because blaming myself would have been a lot more difficult and hurtful. After that, though, it was cowardice that kept me away from her. I knew I hurt her deeply and I didn’t want to be rejected. So I held on to the image of Laura when she was back home with us before everything went to shit.”

He took a deep breath and felt Erica’s hand moving consolingly on his leg. He was very grateful for having her, because she knew exactly what he needed.

“When did you start talking again?” was all she asked, facing forward, looking straight ahead of the car, giving Derek a little privacy to open up more easily.

“About a month ago. Right after meeting Stiles in class for the first time.”

Erica chuckles slowly at that, shakes her head and takes her hand away from him. He won’t admit it, but he misses it.

“You got it bad, you know?” she teases as she shoves him in the shoulder playfully.

Derek is happy that she doesn’t want to talk about Laura anymore, but bringing up Stiles isn’t any better.

“Yeah, I know” he sighs, reaching for the radio and turning it on, so there’s no awkward silence between them.

It takes 20 minutes to get to the diner, trailing Laura and Zach. By the time the two of them go up to their table, Zoe has her mouth full of pizza, tomato sauce on her cheeks and hands. She looks a lot like Laura did on pictures when she was her age; same dark hair, soft curls to it and big brown-green eyes. Her nose, though, is not as pointed as most Hale’s, it is definitely like her dad’s, a cute little button nose with a little bit of freckles.

As soon as Laura’s order comes, Derek and Erica get one for each of them, and then they fall into a few minutes of silence, enjoying the amazing food.

Laura and Erica talk animatedly between bites, though. They talk about school, about Laura’s work as a journalist (she answers readers’ letters in a relationship advice column. Derek is shocked beyond belief because he thought Laura could find a better job with her psychology degree, but she talks so animatedly about it that Derek rests assured that this is what she wanted to do and she loves her job).

Thankfully, nobody mentions Derek’s sex life because he is sure he wouldn’t handle Erica and Laura’s meeting at the same day he talks about his crush on a trophy hunter student with his sister. Instead, they all eat and talk, laughing a lot. Derek enjoys his first time being with his niece and they play hide and seek behind Zach’s back.

After what seems like 10 minutes, but in reality is 2 hours, they say goodbye and go home. Derek is relaxed and contemplates calling this the best afternoon he had in a very long time when he checks his emails and his mood instantly sours:

**_From_ ** _:[sstilinski@gmail.com](mailto:sstilinski@gmail.com)_

**_To_ ** _:[hale.derek@hotmail.com](mailto:hale.derek@hotmail.com)_

**_Subject_ ** _: personal matter_

_Dear Professor Hale,_

_in the last week I have been trying to talk to you after classes, but it seems that some kind of bad luck has been following me around this month. The matter is rather important to me, and that’s why I would like to inquire about your office hours. You see, I know that you mentioned them in our first lecture together, but I was rather preoccupied by your presence to take notes._

_Please, tell me when I can visit you to have a talk that I have been looking for for some time now._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Stiles_

In his sudden shock, all he can do was thrust the phone to Erica, who raises a brow at him but reads the message.

When she puts the phone down, she looks up at Derek and all she asks is:

“What now?”

Derek hangs his head, rests his forehead on his palms and takes a few deep breaths.

“I have to meet him. I can’t say no just because I am not okay with his reputation and how he wants me to end up on his list of success.” He steels himself and looks back up at Erica, who is now sitting on the table in front of him, staring at him. “I swore I would be a good teacher and refusing his request is exactly what I decided not to do. So… I will meet him.” After one last breath, he grabs the phone and types and answer.

**_From_ ** _:[hale.derek@hotmail.com](mailto:hale.derek@hotmail.com) _

**_To_ ** _:[sstilinski@gmail.com](mailto:sstilinski@gmail.com)_

**_Subject_ ** _: Re: personal matter_

_Mr Stilinski,_

_I will be in my office on Monday and Thursday from 2pm to 6pm. You can visit me whenever you have time._

_Prof. Derek Hale_

He hands his mobile to Erica, who reads it and hits send.

There’s no turning back, he’ll meet Stiles on his own in his office to talk about God knows what kind of personal matter. He can only hope that it won’t be awkward and Stiles will not flirt with him as hard as he does in public.


	12. Chapter 12

When Stiles comes up with the idea of visiting Derek in his office, he is sure that Derek will reject him. He also mentions it to Scott over their Saturday brunch at his workplace, in the coffee shop, and just like Stiles has expected, Scott is more than skeptical.

“I want to talk to Derek alone,” Stiles starts as Scott is about to take a huge bite from his double chocolate-mint cupcake. His arm, though, freezes halfway, holding the delicious, dark black piece of magic in the air, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from it to level a “ _not this again_ ” look at Stiles.

“Why do I feel like nothing I say will stop you?” Scott asks and takes a huge bite, one that seems like a revenge for the interruption and sighs softly as he starts chewing, eyes almost crossing in pleasure.

“Because you know me?” tries Stiles, which only earns him an eyeroll from his friend who is still fighting the huge bite of cupcake that’s making him look like a chipmunk.

“But seriously, dude, you should have seen him. He is technically asking for this whole thing, and let’s not forget his total rudeness right here, that ISAAC WAS A WITNESS OF,” he yells mid-sentence, looking at Isaac and waiting for his confirming nod, then going back to his conversation with Scott. What he can’t see is Isaac’s disapproving little headshake, though.

“Stiles. You know I love you like a brother, dude, but you are really stupid sometimes,” Scott sighs after brushing cupcake crumbs off his face. “Have you thought about… I don’t know… how maybe he was having a bad day when you met? Or that maybe _you_ did something wrong there?”

Stiles needs all his will power not to show how hurt he feels by those words. It’s true, he hasn’t given any thought to that possibility, but it’s still doesn’t mean Derek had needed to act like a douche! Stiles had bad days, alright, but he was never such a douche to people.

Well, that one time when he got into an argument at the coffee shop and then yelled at an old tourist couple asking for direction… But he wasn’t really that rude and they didn’t really speak English, anyway.

Point is, Derek deserves to be played with. Stiles was more than friendly with him and running out on him like this does not happen to Stiles. Does. Not. Happen. There’s price to pay for that.

That’s why he calls Lydia on Sunday and asks her to help him buy new clothes. They spend 3 hours at the mall, and Stiles ends up having 5 shirts, 5 pairs of trousers (not just khaki this time) and 5 wool jumpers. He also gets 2 pairs of fancy shoes and a few tips on hair styling and skin care.

By 10 o’clock that night, he exfoliated, shaved, used moisturizer, trimmed his pubes (because he is an optimist, so sue him!) and flossed. He is ready to hit the bed after some hours of reading and fooling around on the internet.

The next morning comes all too fast, but he jumps out of bed with a spring in his steps. He spends 20 minutes choosing the outfit (dark purple button-up shirt, mustard pants and the pair of light brown shoes). He then goes out to the kitchen for a bowl of cereals, checks his mails while he’s eating and then finishes getting ready. As a last touch, he puts some product on his hair and tries to rule his strands into a side sweep. A little bit of cologne and then he’s ready. Grabbing his messenger bag, he leaves the dorm room and heads for his classes.

The time goes by very slowly, but finally it’s 3pm and he’s finished for the day. He heads for Derek’s office, but a few steps away from it, he stops. Checks his watch again, and in unison with his belly grumbling, as he turns around, his shoes squeak in protest of changing direction so suddenly.

He walks over to the closest coffee shop and buys two cups of caffe latte and two raspberry muffins. Feeling very satisfied with himself, he goes back to campus, humming to himself.

When he arrives to Derek’s office, the door is opening and a student is leaving the room. As soon as he can, he elbows the door completely open and enters.

“Professor Hale!” he cries, pulling the door closed with his foot. “I am so happy we found time to talk!” He puts the cups of coffee down, placing the bag of pastry next to them. “I don’t know about you, but for me it’s time for my snacks. That’s why I brought you coffee,” here he points at the two cups, “and some sweets.” He opens the bag and takes out a napkin and a muffin, handing them to Derek without asking questions.

When he looks up at the teacher, he is staring at the muffin in his hands, his eyebrows in a frown, his nose scrunched up in confusion. The professor definitely doesn’t look as threating as he does during heated arguments in class. He looks rather cute. (cute? What the hell…)

After a few seconds of Derek being frozen in place, Stiles coughed slightly, that seemed to shake Derek out of his blank state.

“I bought latte, if that’s okay with you,” Stiles hands him on of the cups. “I didn’t know how you take it, so I brought sugar, too.” He fishes to small packages out of his bag and gives a few to Derek.

Derek now stands there with a cupcake and a cup of coffee in hand but he’s still not moving, other than watching what Stiles is doing. Stiles looks him in the eyes, raises and eyebrow and when there’s still no reaction, he tilts his head towards the chairs behind him.

“Oh, yeah, right. Sorry. Erm… Take a seat?...” Derek motions towards the chair with his coffee and then looks around, little lost, to put the cup down. When he pushes a stock of towards the side of the desk, he has enough space to squeeze it between his keyboard and himself.

Stiles smiles to himself, watching as Derek fusses around and then observes the room. There are papers (to grade) and books all over his desk, which is a mess, to be honest. All over the walls there are tall bookshelves filled with hardcovers from poetry to astrology. There’s a lone bonsai in the left corner behind Derek, and a gold fish in the other one. The poor thing floats around basically without moving, staring ahead, in the direction of Stiles.

When Stiles looks backs at Derek, he is looking at him, as if he’s been following his observation. Stiles feels himself blush a little at that but gathers his bearings quickly.

“So as I have written in my email, I came here because of a personal matter,” he starts and takes a bite of his muffin, intently staring at Derek. As soon as he tastes the gooey fruits, he can’t help but moan (well okay, maybe he plays it up a little), and right after it he can hear Derek moving in his chair. He’s reaching out for the cupcake in front of him, sniffing it a little before taking a cautious bite. After a second of chewing, he looks up Stiles like he showed him the greatest present of all worlds, and starts eating fast and noisily.

Stiles watches him, amused, as he sips on his coffee and eats the rest of his treat. When he finishes it off, he cleans his fingers and continues.

“You might ask why I chose you to come to, but this matter concerns you, too.” At this, Derek’s head shoots up and he puts the coffee cup down.

“And how does it concern me?” he asks, doubt in his eyes.

“I want to talk about our first meeting,” Stiles says, standing up to go to the trashcan.

“I don’t see what’s there to talk about our first meeting,” Derek grumbles, not bothering with standing up but rather throwing the ball of paper in the general direction of the can, and scores. “You expressed your interest in my work and I appreciate that greatly.”

Stiles smiles at him, deliberately licking his lip slowly, and he loos Derek in the eye when he says it:

“Not that time. The one where we met at my workplace.”

As soon as he says it, Stiles knows that he hit jackpot. Derek’s ears and face turn read and his eyes threaten to fall out of their sockets. Stiles is staring at him intently, cataloguing all his reactions: his Adam’s apple moving as Derek swallows a few times, his palms running over his pants to dry the sweat and his tongue as it lick his now dry lips.

“What—“ Derek starts, but his voice cracks. He coughs and tries again. “What do you want to talk about regarding that day?”

Stiles makes himself more comfortable in the big chair, sliding his right foot forward putting his left one firmly on the floor. He lets his knees open, without question drawing Derek’s eyes to his crotch. He smiles to himself, purposefully running his hand over his belt and checking if his zipper is up. He can hear Derek taking a deep and rather noisy breath and when he lifts his eye to look at the professor, the other man is staring at the books filling the shelves.

“What I wanted to talk to you about is your proposal.” Stiles would swear he heard Derek’s knuckles cracking he’s holding the armrest so hard.

“…yes?” is all the professor croaks out.

“Well, you left before I could have answered,” Stiles exclaims cheerfully. “That’s why I bought cupcakes and coffee: this was our first date.” At this point, Derek is sweating, which is a really weird reaction, if you ask Stiles and he looks close to having an aneurysm.

Stiles scoots closer in his chair, putting his forearms on the desk (well technically the on the papers that cover the desk).

“And I was wondering… You know,” he asks, bashing his eyelashes, looking innocent. “When is our next date?” He slides his hand towards the one Derek has on the table, nails digging in papers. When he touches it, it’s like Derek was hit by electricity: he stands up, almost knocking over his chair, gaping like a fish.

Stiles senses the change in the air and, for the first time since his crusade started, he feels a little hesitant and very stupid. He, too, stands up but then Derek is crowding him so he has to back away. He’s a few steps from the door when Derek suddenly moves even closer and Stiles swears the prof’s moving hand will connect with his chin but that never happens. Instead, Derek reaches behind Stiles and tears the door open, nearly pushing Stiles out of it, even though they are nowhere near enough to touch.

“I want you to leave now,” Derek says in an eerily quiet voice.

Stiles’ all bravado leaves him all at once and he all but runs out of the office and down the hall. He can hear the office door closing with a bang but it’s only faint since he’s already out of the building and heading for the library.

In a panic-like state he starts looking for books about the regulations the school has regarding teacher-student relationships.

Two hours and handfuls of lost hair later, Stiles knows what he needs to do. He won’t say a single word and keep attending Derek’s classes. But if he mentions it to the dean, Stiles can lose his scholarship for harassing a teacher. Jesus Christ, what was he honestly thinking? Best case scenario is, he will never talk to Derek again and changes groups; there are 3 other Eng Lit groups with different professors but the same syllabus, he can easily join one of them. He can tell a white lie about how he has something important to do at the same time he would have class with Derek. It’s going to be fine, he tells himself in front of the bathroom mirror of the library. It’s going to turn out fine, because he is Stiles Stilinski and these are his college years; he will have the full experience and won’t lose his scholarship.

This mantra is playing on repeat in his head as he heads back to the dorm, fortifying himself for the shitstorm of ‘ _told you so_ ’s and ‘ _what were you thinking_ ’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So finally something happened, huh? But where to go from here? :P


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long, but I hope the length and the liiiiittle development make up for it. Love ya!

Derek’s hand is still trembling as he closes the door. Cold sweat runs down his back, his forehead and temple that he dries up with the sleeve of his shirt. He’s panting, breathing noisily as he tries to calm his rabid heart.

What happened was totally unexpected and it took Derek off guard. The last thing he expected when Stiles had messaged him was to talk about that one time where Stiles’ whole personality and appearance bewitched him and he couldn’t stop himself in time. But then he realized his mistake and fled the scene. This, apparently, didn’t sit well with Stiles because he felt the need to talk about it. And this whole thing, the way he was flirtatious and open – and charming, damn – shocked Derek and he froze. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was back there in the coffee shop, standing awkwardly in front of Stiles, being mesmerized by his whole… aura.

He would have loved to wake up, shake off the stiffness and flirt back, but then Stiles changed his behavior and Derek has seen guys like this  before, so he instantly knew: Stiles had set a goal and was about to reach it. And then he asked for another date.

Derek got so mad at Stiles, at himself, at the universe; he needed all his willpower to stay calm and not show how furious he was. He knew what kind of person Stiles was, and knew that for him it was only a game. And yet, for a second, he believed that it might be more than that. But then Stiles started _acting_ , and Derek realized that it still was nothing but a trap that he fell for, so stupidly.

With a deep breath and a lot of determination, he straightens his shirt and goes back to his desk. After rummaging around under the papers and furiously throwing away the coffee cup and bag that’s lying around, he finds his phone and calls Erica.

She picks it up on the third ring.

“I’m in the middle of my weekly beauty appointment, this better be important,” she grumbles and Derek can hear distant female voices in the background.

“Stiles asked me out,” is all Derek says because he knows that it’s not the right time to let his self-hatred and general bitterness out.

“He WHAAAAAAAAT?!” Erica shrieks over the phone. There’s some shuffling and muffled voices in the background –that sound a little angry– and then Erica start speaking again. “Where are you? Are you finished? I need half an hour here but there’s a coffee next corner where we can meet. Or… you know, your place?”

Derek suddenly feels a huge weight lifting off his shoulder that he didn’t know where there to begin with. He wheezes a little as he inhales, but his voice is steady when he answers.

“Yeah, he came to my office after my classes. I’m gonna meet you at my place. I’ll be waiting for you. Double mint chocolate okay with you?” he asks as an afterthought, because sure as hell he needs ice cream for this.

“Yeah, sounds perfect. See you, Der,” she says and hangs up.

Derek stares at his phone for a few seconds then steels himself and starts packing to leave.

On his way home stops by at the grocery shop and buys two cans of ice cream and some rum and coke for good measure. He doesn’t want to face his emotions without alcohol.

He’s fixing a few sandwiches when Erica knocks on his door. Putting down the knife and wiping his hands in a towel, he heads for the door with a glass of Cuba Libre for Erica and himself each.

When the door is open, Erica simply takes a look at him –probably frowning and a little tired from the emotional distress– and takes the glass to down the drink.

Derek closes the door and follows Erica to the kitchen, where she’s already eating a sandwich, the glass and another sandwich in her hands.

“What?” She raises and eyebrow at Derek. “I didn’t have time for lunch.”

“Didn’t say anything,” Derek grumbles as he puts the ice cream and spoons on the table.

“Well, your eyebrows did so make them stop judging me,” Erica points a finger at his head and then continues eating. “So, tell me everything,” she waves the other sandwich at him after she finished one off.

“I need more booze,” Derek groans and pours a healthy amount of rum in his glass with some coke and a dash of lemon juice. He takes a big gulp, enjoys as the burn of the alcohol and the coldness of the coke tickle his throat.

“Crap…” Erica whispers and stuffs her face as she can, grabs the bottles and ushers Derek to the living room.

They sit down next to each other, Erica sitting cross legged, facing Derek, while Derek puts her socked feet on the coffee table. The drinks are within reach and so are the ice creams.

As encouragement, Erica strokes up and down Derek thighs swiftly and then folds her hands in her lap, watching Derek.

“He asked me when he could visit me in his office. You know, the email,” he adds and misses Erica’s eye roll completely. “Well, he came after 3. And he brought coffee and cupcakes.”

He needs to stop here because the memory of the taste of the muffin comes rushing forward. And with that comes the sound Stiles made as he bit into the gooey pastry; and the sight of him licking his lips. Derek shakes his head to clear it a little, and continues.

“That was awkward as it was. And then he went on, and told me, that the reason he wants to talk to me is that he hadn’t have time to give me an answer when I’d run out of the coffee shop months ago.”

“Wait. Do you mean he wanted to tell you his answer?” Erica is gaping a little, his drink up in the air as she was just about to take a sip when she started talking.

“Yeah. Well, no?” Derek is hesitant. “Technically, this time _he_ asked _me_ out,” he finishes and downs his (half a glass of) drink.

“And…?” Erica asks and leans closer to him, eyebrows raised.

“And what? I said no, of course.” Derek looks at her, confusion on his face. He reaches out and mixes another drink.

“Why…?!” Erica inquires as she follows Derek’s example.

“Because he’s a spoilt kid and he only does it because he wants to brag to his friends. You said it yourself, he’s a player. And okay, okay.” He takes another sip (downs half of the glass again) and continues. “I was, kind of, sad when you said all that shit about him. Because I believe you, it’s not about that, but, you know… It’s been a while now, and… he’s cute… and---“

But then Erica interrupts him.

“Your type, I know, honey.” She pulls him closer to herself, holding him tight as he fights the anger and desperation that are mixing in him. “It’s okay, though, you know.” She shushes him as she pets his hair, and Derek would love to yell and tear things apart in his impotent rage, but he just holds her close and tries to calm his shaking body.

“What happened after he asked you out?” Erica asks and lifts his head so they can look into each other’s eyes again, sitting back to their previous places.

Derek takes a deep –but shaky– breath, gulps down the remainder of his drink and carries on.

“Well I lost it…? He touched my hand and I didn’t know what to do with it. I jerked away,” he explains, mimicking the motions. “And then staggered backwards; I almost knocked my chair over. You know the one, the big and heavy mahogany.

Erica’s eyes widen a little at that. “Yeah, that’s how badly I reacted…

Derek shakes his head and starts pacing. “Wait, it gets worse,” he scoffs and runs his hand through his hair, tugging at it a little.

“So I was already standing, and probably looking furious. God, I was so MAD at him, but most of all at myself.” He doesn’t really realize, but Derek is shouting at this point, talking so vehemently about what happened.

“I mean, you told me about his reputation, and even I knew that it wasn’t going anywhere. Yet, look at me!” he exclaims, stopping mid-step. He turns towards Erica and points at himself. “What a gigantic idiot am I to think that it’s cute that he tries to woo his professor?” He freezes and his hands go up in the air, before he buries his face in them.

“Oh God, I am such a tool! Erica,” he points at her. “I am –was, I don’t know– his professor! He did it for the grade! Fuck, this is so pathetic!” With this last cry he collapses back on the couch, right next to Erica. He takes one of the ice creams that is perfectly gooey now, after warming up and starts spooning it into his mouth.

“Are you done?” Erica asks suddenly, and shoves him in the shoulder as she turns around to grab her own ice cream. “You’re like a drama queen, Derek. This is ridiculous,” she chimes and digs in her desert.

Derek nearly drops the can and the spoon is still in his mouth as he stares at Erica. Erica, who was his friend but now he swears they can’t be BFFs anymore.

And this is the moment when someone knocks on the door. Derek barely has time to take the spoon out of his mouth when Erica is already up and running towards the door. A few seconds later the door is closing, and Laura walks into the room.

Derek feels his anger rising as he watches the two women welcome each other with an easy familiarity.

“Erica--“ is all Derek can utter before he rises to his feet and heads to the kitchen to grab his jacket and leave.

But before he can reach the door, Laura stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Please,” she says, looking him in the eyes. “I want to help you. I want to be here for you this time,” she whispers as her slides up to his shoulder and she squeezes it a little.

Derek takes a noisy breath and collapses in her arms, holding her tight.

“Do you know?” he murmurs against her soft, lavender-scented hair.

“Yeah, I do. Erica told me. Well, most of it, anyway.” She buries her face in his neck and holds him closer.

Derek feels Erica’s hand sliding over his back and in that moment he knows that no matter what happens, he has two strong women to rely on, now. And they will be there for him. Always have been, even when he was too stubborn and stupid to see it.

After a few moments of silently holding each other, Laura lets go of him and leads him back to the couch. She hands him the ice cream and his spoon while Erica brings another spoon for Laura.

 Laura, then, looks at Derek and takes his hand in hers.

“What’s the problem here, Derk?”

The concern in her voice and her use of his old nickname makes Derek a little teary eyed. He scoots closer and put his other hand on hers.

“It’s just that… I am mad at myself?” Derek looks contrite. “Once again, I chose the wrong person.”

“What makes you say that?” Laura asks as her thumb sweeps over Derek’s hand.

“I don’t know what Erica told you, but this kid –and, damn, Laura, he’s just a kid, barely over 18– has a reputation. He’s the most popular kid, although he’s only a freshman. And, well… he lives up to that image. He parties a lot, has several flings over a month and flirts with everyone. What I can’t understand is that he’s not the typical jock you see in high school. Remember Roger Schimdt? Yeah, huge jerk. Well, Stiles is not like that. He has good grades and he never bullies anyone. He, actually, stops his friends from bullying others. He also has a job at a coffee shop –where we first met and all the shit started– because he doesn’t want his dad’s money.”

When he sees Erica’s wide eyes and skeptical expression, he looks at her in confusion.

“What? I heard Jenny Robinson say it once after class,” he confirms, and as soon as it’s out, he blushes furiously. Damn, he sounds like a lovesick puppy.

He turns back to Laura and carries on.

“So yeah, what my problem here is is that I was _so_ tempted to fall for it. So. Tempted. But then he confronted me, all playful and flirtatious, but when he touched me… Well, shit got real, you know?” He ruffles his hair and tugs on his beard as he’s looking for words. “I am still his professor and---“

“Well, technically, you can change that,” Erica peeps in.

“---I wouldn’t want to compromise his studies with this. So I’m not going to say anything about it and it won’t change my professional opinion about him.”

After this little speech, Derek feels himself lighter. Like admitting this has taken a heavy burden off his shoulders.

But when he looks at the two most important people in his life, their disbelieving face confuses him.

“Erm… why are you looking at me like that…?” he asks, looking from one to the other.

“Honey,” Erica starts and takes the ice cream and spoon out of his hand. “Whatever you say, you like that boy.”

“But---“ he starts but Laura shushes him.

“No ‘but’s. You like him and are interested in getting to know him more.” When Derek opens his mouth to talk, she continues hurriedly. “And it’s totally fine! Derek, there are at least 3 other Eng Lit classes that he can attend if you two start something. You don’t need to sacrifice anything here.”

“I… But what about the rumors? You said he’s a player. I’m sure seducing me is on his bucket list somewhere.” Derek looks at her, stubborn and daring her to say no; he crosses his arms for good measure, too.

“You might not know this,” Laura starts in a low voice, “but Zach was just like that.” She smiles at Derek softly, submerging in her memories. “We met in my sophomore year. I was part of the nerd club, let’s say. We had a weekly book club session and cooked food from fictional stories on the weekends. He was a jock, played basketball. Everyone was all over him; girls would slip their phone numbers into his pocket while passing him by. He had quite a lot of girlfriends, and he was a senior by that time so he was totally out of my league, no matter how I wanted him.

“And then one Saturday afternoon we met in Walmart. I was shopping for groceries for the nerd dinner we had and he was getting some frozen pizza for breakfast after Friday’s party. I remember being really embarrassed, being there with no makeup, messy and greasy hair, in one of dad’s old jumpers.”

She stops a little, strokes her hair and continues.

“I braided my hair as a last resort to make it presentable – I wanted to wash it before meeting my friends – but that was exactly what he commented on when he walked over to me. He said my braids were pretty and made me look like a maiden from the Victorian era who happened to time travel and grabbed the clothes closest to her. It was so ridiculously cheesy and weird that I started laughing. He took that as a good sign and introduced himself. He asked for my number and the next day asked me out. In school, in front of everyone. I was a little anxious about it because I was sure it was a prank but after dating for three months without him ever trying to force things on me, I realized that this was it. I was in love and it looked like he was, too. And now we have a beautiful daughter together.”

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan, sniffed a little and smiled at Derek.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is: don’t judge so harshly, without even giving him a chance. Go out with him, do it your way, and decide _after_ it. You don’t need to see him after that if you don’t want to. Or you can start dating if he really is what you like. Just give it a chance, Der.”

Derek sits there for a few moments, contemplating this. Laura is right, of course. Some things don’t change; she was annoyingly right most of the time even when they were kids.

And, if Derek is honest with himself, he is _very_ attracted to Stiles. His soft-looking hair, the pale skin that’s dotted with moles, his tight bum in those khaki pants he wears all the time…

Besides that, Laura is right. What can he lose with one date, really? He gets bored... Well, he’s been bored with a lot of things lately, so it wouldn’t be a big change. And there probably wouldn’t be any awkward silence, because Stiles talks, like, all the time.

When he looks up, Erica is already holding his phone out for him. He takes it and without second guessing himself, he starts typing.

 

_**From** _ _:_ _[hale.derek@hotmail.com](mailto:hale.derek@hotmail.com) _

_**To** _ _:_ _[sstilinski@gmail.com](mailto:sstilinski@gmail.com) _

_**Subject** _ _: -_

_Mr Stilinski,_

_I have taken your offer into consideration and I would like to meet you. Come visit me in my office this Thursday, and we’ll set a date._

_Prof. Derek Hale_

 

He sends the message without thinking and then puts the phone down.

“Can we watch Pretty Woman already?” he asks, taking his ice cream and digging into it with cold determination. This thing will have to work out, and Derek has made up his mind to do everything he can to make that happen.


End file.
